


Don't leave me here all by my self

by A_space_gay



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, and sad, i think it might get sexy?, its gay, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-10-07 12:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_space_gay/pseuds/A_space_gay
Summary: Brian and Roger are only one year into the university experience, 1974 to be exact, and they already need more people to pay rent.Freddie and John end up joining them leading to all of them being caught up in Freddie's frantic search for love.(For timing, Imagine all of them were born somewhere between 1950 and 1955 and then it's more accurate.)





	1. Leaving home ain't easy

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a second draft so I'm completely up to advice because my chapter outline was utter trash. I'll probably be updating once every week if I can get my shit together, maybe more if I get around to it :)

Brian May was sat, arms up against the back of the sofa and impossibly long legs slung up on the coffee table; an unusual air of both calm and incredible energy. Brian seemed to like everything neat and understandable, however his only exception to this rule was his hair, which was huge and wild and completely contrasted the tidy nature of the flat he was lounging in.

“Bri you lazy fucker!” came a rousing yell from the first door on the right as a shaggy head of blond hair and half finished eyeliner was thrust around the frame; “we’ve got an hour and you’re not even ready yet!” Ahh, thought Brian, here come the dog whistle tones of the world's most infuriating flatmate. Roger stared with his best bitch face as Brian rolled his eyes at this ever so slightly overdressed man in the doorway. “Rog, it’s just a new roommate arriving. Don’t be so overdramatic,” Roger stuck out his tongue and ducked back into the room, presumably to finish his makeup or try on a third outfit to impress their much needed arrival. “What’s he called again?” He yelled from the depths of his horrendously messy bedroom towards Brian who sighed and sifted through the pile of bills, scrap paper and empty forms to find the letter from their perspective friend. 

“I think it’s uh… Eddie or uh, Freddie? Yeah, Freddie.” He read out from the piece of paper than had been annoyingly scrunched up, presumably by Roger. He pursued his lips as he applied a soft scented lip balm and smacked them, taking care to invade every corner before replying to Brian. “Did he say anything else? I need to know what look to go for,” he yelled back rather than taking what Brian thought to be the more sensible option of having an actual human conversation not shouted through walls. “No! Why don’t you just ask him himself when he gets here?” Roger reappeared for a split second in a flurry of hair and wearing a questionably patterned blazer “don’t be a dick Bri.”  
“No, no I’m not being a dick, you’re just getting too stressed out and dressed up for one person,”  
“It’s just the pleasure of getting to spend time with someone who isn’t you.”

Brian made a mental note to remember that next time Roger attempted to rope him into listening to some new song that was no doubt going to be mildly inappropriate. “Ha ha” he muttered, deadpan, before picking himself up and making his way to the kitchen to brew some tea, realising that now he too was in fact quite nervous to meet this newcomer they had decided to let live in their house without ever meeting the man first. Well, as he had said to roger, at least they knew his name and they could double check he wasn’t a murderer later, if, of course, he didn’t do the murdering before they’d had the chance. Brian was sure it would all be fine, he mostly echoed rogers belief that if they saw too much of each other they might just go absolutely crazy and so in the end it was probably best to have someone calmer to sit down and talk to rather than clean up after. 

The kitchen walls had some sort of awful brown paisley wallpaper that was now noticeably damp from the steam caused by the kettle, the kind of problem you would ask the landlord to fix if you weren’t late for the very first rent payment. 

Whilst he waited for the kettle to boil he let his mind drift away to wonder what the new guy would be like, he knew he couldn't be worse than living with Roger. Although he wouldn't mind at all if he wasn't, Brian secretly longed for him to be reserved and polite, the kind of person who would join in with Roger's antics but only to help Brian not be dragged into them alone. Obviously he wasn't allowed to be too intellectual since they already had two scientists for that and were in desperate need of someone a little different at least. He was going to help tidy the flat, spend a maximum of an hour on hair and makeup (but no less than 15 minutes or he might just be ashamed to leave the house with him) and use a coaster for his drinks on hardwood surfaces. So maybe Brian had planned the perfect picture of a roommate in his head, that didn't mean he would be at all disappointed if he wasn't exactly the way he wanted him to be.

The past year it had been just him and Rog, alone in their odd astrophysics/dentistry bubble. Brian had always told Roger to ditch the course especially when it got to the point that he was choosing a £2 a night drumming gig over classes and probably turning up so hungover that there was no way they would let him near medical equipment. Brian had always assumed that after Roger quit and decided (very wisely) on a science that it would be far easier to live with and revise around him however that too was a complete let down. But although he would never outwardly admit it, he really did love his flatmate dearly and would probably have gone insane without him around to keep him tied firmly down to earth. They had a nice little system which had gone undisturbed for a whole year and if it wasn't for their distinct lack of money he would probably have kept anyone else out, even if that meant him strangling Roger to death eventually. So if someone was going to come in, if they really had to then he was going to have to be good, really fucking good and everything that Roger wasn't. 

 

The whistle of the boiling water jolted him out of his train of thought; he moved from his fairly comfortable one-knee-up lounging position against the counter and poured himself a perfectly sized cup of tea, not like the weak rubbish Roger makes him, taking extra care to be spiteful and not make a second cup. 

 

Brian added the wallpaper to his mental list of things to be done (now scraping the floor) and grabbed his mug of tea managing to only slightly scald his hands. He had just enough time to reread the course specification and allocate ten minutes to existential panic or song writing, the perfect hour to wind down before-  
there was a loud and rhythmic knock causing Roger to screech and Brian to spill half a cup of scalding tea all down his white trousers, to his own dismay.

Early. Of course he had to be early, he couldn't be late or on time or five minutes either way but no, he just had to be early. This Freddie guy had better be worth a trip into the city and £5 he really didn't have on him to spend on new trousers. Brian was then very unprepared for the approaching whirlwind of a man, Freddie Mercury!

As he opened the door with a painful slowness, Freddie seemed to fill it almost instantly amidst the odd apology for the obscene amount of luggage he held. His hair was long and silky to go with the fashion, his clothes were too: bright and sparkly and all the right curves in all the right places. But of course the most noticeable thing about his bizarrely foreign face was his teeth. Brian felt awful for looking as Freddie hurried to remove his smile and cover up his overbite, nodding to an ever more interested Brian. It was plain to see that he was beautiful and a one of a kind mix of energy and reservedness. He was exciting and he was certainly making an impression. If not exactly the one Brian had been wanting.

“Bloody Hell Bri, I thought we had ages left why didn't you tell me he was here!” Roger reappeared for the final time with slightly more even eyeliner and a sudden look of awe on his face. “Well- uh… I'm Roger and you're… not what I was expecting,” he let out a soft chuckle as he too made the mistake of keeping his eyes on Freddie's teeth for longer than was polite and longer than Freddie was keen on. He shrugged it off by turning to his bags, lifting two of the four over his shoulders and proclaiming “which one's mine then darlings?”

Freddie Mercury had never felt so far from home, he was sure the boys were nice, they had promise, but they weren't his- not yet at least. Every few minutes of throwing his clothes into a pile in the wardrobe he had to pick out a particularly glam item and look in the mirror just to remind himself that no matter how far away from everything he knew, he was Freddie Fucking Mercury and he was here to be big. He looked and somehow (with the addition of a swig from his handy travel gin) he could see a talented musician, an artist and a man who was going to be amazing and happy and bright… if only he waited just a few weeks to find that in this room- rather than the one next to Kash's. 

When his two gym bags, one suitcase and one shoulder purse for men were empty and the contents happily strewn across the floor he made the journey out into the living room. There was Brian, who he noticed was largely taller than the other (who he presumed must be Roger) and had much more of a sensible air to him; although, of course, an air of sensibility really didn't mean anything about a man's character. 

Brian appeared to be making a cup of tea, so naturally he asked for one before throwing himself down on the sofa and allowing his robe to fall of his shoulders to reveal his scandalous silk shirt flashing over his chest, much like the rich showing off their posh tablecloth. “Of course mate. Roger might get one too if he gets off his arse!” yelling the second part into the midst of the flat hoping that Roger would finally take it upon himself to leave the room properly and massively impose himself as usual. Thankfully the promise of tea and new company directed the slender man's entire body out of the door, leaving it wide open behind him.

Now that this was Freddie's first proper impression of Roger he had to say firstly that he was impressed and secondly that he would be borrowing that blazer the moment Rog's back was turned. The pink suspenders too if he wasn't careful; if he kept on dressing like this he would have to start calling him Rainbow, it was a darned sight less boring than 'Roger’ anyhow. “Tea please Bri!” He quipped, grabbing the mug just as Brian finished pouring and leaving a shocked and disappointed stare at his back. Brian was clearly used to this as he hadn't spilled a drop, but still froze with the kettle in annoyance. Ignoring this and putting his leg up against the doorframe he announced “I'm Roger.”  
“Yes, you said, I hope you're usually more talented at conversation,” Freddie fired back, leaving just enough joyful enthusiasm so as to not alienate his flatmates with the first sentence. 

Brian squeezed past a stunned Roger and placed himself on the other side of the frame: “I like him.” Roger grimaced and gave Brian a grin and then a gentle but malicious shove; Freddie watched from the sidelines, smiling with only a hint of regret shadowed on his face.

Freddie and Roger had been lounging on the cracked sofa for the past two hours, and after giving up on his attempt at re-familiarizing himself with the course, Brian joined them too. Roger had managed to trash one pack of cards with a badly aimed throw, landing right in his cold, remilked tea. Since none of them had taken it upon them to bring a TV or pay for a license (they all decided the prices were ridiculous anyway!) they were unceremoniously stuck without the ability to watch films to pass the time. Given that, Brian had then taken the executive decision to attempt to work out their budgeting; as could be expected that fell apart rather quickly after Roger managed to accidentally knock the piles of paper under the sofa (although Brian doubted it's validity as an accident). There was a final incident involving two pens, Brian's ears and two near death experiences which prompted them all to give up entirely on the whole thing.

 

“So then Freddie, what makes you tick?” Roger posed as he flicked through the book Brian had just thrown onto the table in defeat. “Me? Oh everything and anything, find me the right tune and I'll hum along,” Roger seemed fairly contented with that answer, awarding it a small nod. But before he could respond Brian had leant out of his sofa corner and turned to Freddie, “but really, what sort of things do you like? I haven't even asked what course you're doing?”  
“Oh well if you must know its graphic art or something of the sort,” he laughed lightly gesturing away in an attempt to avoid any intense conversation he was sure he wasn't prepared for. “Don't ask me all the questions, tell me something about you?” 

“Well, I'm I suppose I'm in second year astrophysics, I play a bit of guitar and I make a fairly good cup of tea,”  
“Brian absolutely does not make a good cup of tea, I'm first year biology because I got sick of looking at peoples horrific dental care, and I play drums better than Brian plays his string taped to a shoe box.” Obviously Brian was instantly flustered and began trying to formulate some kind of protest in his mind before he was spoken over. As with the trend of his life with Roger so far, someone else got there first, “Oh you both play how brilliant, we should start a band!” Freddie chipped in with glee, grinning again and noticing how Roger's gazing eyes chose to light up too rather than wonder down to his mouth. 

“And do what? Covers in student pubs? No offense mate but I've probably got better things to do with my time.” Brian mused after the initial spark of the idea had left his mind, this started Freddie thinking maybe he really was a bore of sobriety. “Oh no dear I like to think of myself as a musician of some substance, I sing, I write a little, I even play piano. You might just adore it?” He noticed that with his final sentence he phrased it more as a question than a statement, making him feel (and sound) a tad defeated. Roger took a few seconds to turn his head back to the coffee table and away from Freddie, and so it was clear he was interested, it was clear they both were and Freddie was sure that by the end of the week he would have them playing music fit for the gods.

Now, he had been selling himself short when he suggested he wrote 'a little’, what he actually did was write huge, monumental, poetic rock ballads of ages. This was what he intended on spending his evenings doing if he could find the time, on top of his elaborate doodles and diaries accounting his numerous love affairs he had a small and tattered notebook. It smelt strongly of home, a warming mix of his mother's spices and his sister's perfume. Pages were ripped out and shoved back in, sewn, taped and tacked into place and scribbled with lyrics and notation. The writing reflected the dynamics and the flow matched the melody so much so you could almost imagine what it would sound like just by looking. But to every innocent eye it looked just like every other scrappy pad in the city.

He delicately licked his finger and flicked through the main thickness of the book before reaching a crisp new sheet of paper and pressing the pen down in thought, leaving a big inky blot. 

What was the thing most on his mind, what story did he want to tell, what (out of everything) was the most important thing he had in his head that would move people beyond belief? So far his life had been filled with scandalous affairs and lovers hidden in wardrobes, something he was quite proud of if he were to tell the truth, and he always did. 

And then he started to write; without hesitation he thought of everything he felt deep inside that he wanted, like a yearning at being so far from home, and he wrote. It was spilling out across the pages with soft mutterings and humming accompanying him as they always did. Surely it must have been a spectacle, or maybe to everyone else he was simply an energetic man writing in a tatty notepad.

After, he found that what he had written made very little sense at all.

However he did see that there was one thing, one theme that continued throughout, 'I will find you’. He liked that, it felt very real. 

When the lights were out and the curtains closed, he rolled in his newly placed floral sheets and dreamed. He was staring at a man who he could only describe as ethereal in beauty, he wanted to hold him, to love him in a way no one else would let him. The image was so vivid that when he smiled Freddie felt as though he could fly he was lifted so high through the air. No one had ever made him feel so pleased with life and all of its beautys, not the men who used him or who told him he was their love when really they just couldn't stand to let go. He had an alarming track record of losing people to sex and for all it was worth this dream of his was something he would give up all of the pleasures in the world for.

All of this in one split second of a glowing and unattainable smile hidden deep within a dream. Freddie slept warm and quiet in a new room with new people and a place that now was starting to feel a little more like home every minute.


	2. Synchronize your minds and see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had a chance to do much proof reading of this chapter but against my better judgement at 12 pm, here it is! Shiny and new and filled to the brim with John Deacon

Freddie called an emergency house meeting at 8am the day before Brian’s first lecture and two hours before Roger was planning on being awake. “Fred mate no offence but what could be so important you have to get me up this fucking early.” Roger grumbled as he dragged himself and his blanket into the living room and dropped onto the sofa next to a fully dressed and made up Brian and Freddie.  
“Roger this is the time normal people get up, you are aware of that aren’t you?” Roger decided to say nothing and instead sink as deeply into his favourite sofa crease as possible, he was perfectly aware of the time but just happened to think it was a ridiculous idea and society should shape itself around his far more enjoyable sleep schedule.

Gently leaning forwards Brian asked “could we hurry this up a bit? It’s just I do have an astronomy lecture to go to,” as Freddie appeared to be enjoying his and Rogers banter rather than getting to the point (secretly, Brian agreed that people should not be awake before 9 if possible). “Oh right of course, so I took the liberty of going over the finances that you two clearly didn’t want to do at all-” they were about to protest before realising it was true, as much as Brian liked to think he was on top of it all he probably wouldn’t have gotten any of it done for the next month at least, for Roger the next three. “And I’ve spotted a bit of an issue… We just don’t have enough money,” he had gone over it three times in fact, wondering how Brian could have managed to miss out the fact that the addition of Freddie’s rent still left them £30 short. “That can’t be right, I’m sure I worked it out?” Brian asked, hurring to pick up the sheets of paper and look through, “Darling I think you may have forgotten we need to eat.”   
“Ahh actually that would have been me, something put me in a rotten mood and I threw half of Brian’s paper out of the window, in my defence I didn’t think it was important, just numbers,” holding his hands up in surrender Roger looked awkwardly at Brian, not that he was particularly surprised since Roger did tend to let out his frustrations in a rather frustration inducing manner.   
“Oh don’t be a dick Roger. it doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve only got two hours before I have to leave and we’ve got to do something, maybe you could get a job Roger?” Brian said, turning back to his friend accusingly, but Roger wasn’t listening and was instead looking at the remaining sheets of paper that were untouched by Brian with a furrowed brow. 

“We’ll have to get a fourth flatmate, we can’t get £30 any other way… I might have to get a job,”  
“Brilliant-” muttered Brian, “why didn’t I think of that?”   
Roger ignored his voice, dripping with sarcasm and continued to go through his mental list of job prospects and potential roommates. “How are we going to move someone else in anyway, we do have a limited number of rooms?” Brian posed to the others, sincerely hoping it didn’t involve sofas or him sleeping under Rogers piles of skin tight trousers. “I’ll share with Roger obviously,” he continued completely ignoring Brian's shock at his sudden want to share a box room with Roger Motormouth Taylor, “ you and the other one can have rooms to yourselves and I’m sure they’ll be suitably boring,”  
“Wait a minute why do you suddenly want to share with Roger?” Brian asked, clearly Freddie was right about it being the most sensible option but he felt he should have at least been asked before turning it down. “Brian dear if anyone had to share a room with you they'd be dead within two days.” Fair enough.

Once it had been agreed upon that Freddie was allowed to borrow up to and not including ten items of Roger's clothing at maximum they got to the next and more pressing item. “How are we going to find a new roommate in the three days before we inevitably run out of cash for rent and food?” Asked the blond, burying his head in the sofa in an attempt to pretend they weren't screwed if they couldn't find a nice new roommate at such short notice. He half hoped it would be a woman, they know how to do things these three useless boys don't, maybe they'd finally get things done if a nice, clean girl moved in.

“I could put up an advertisement in my shop window, the manager would practically die if I didn't turn up every day, he owes me.” This was not true since Freddie had only been working at the antiques store for one day and the manager despised him, all the more reason to fuck up his day by turning the window into an advertising board. Roger saw a separate but still potent flaw in this otherwise brilliant plan, “What student is going to get housing off a dingy shop window in Soho?” he posed, knowing full well that they had no other ideas. “A desperate one with good taste in crockery,” and really they all needed someone who was desperate because without that it was going to be a miracle to get them to move in regardless.

“You two had better not fuck this up, try to find at least one person who isn't a nut job!” Brian swore as he packed his satchel for the lecture, using anger directed at Roger and Freddie to avoid feeling nervous about his approaching responsibility. It wasn't working very well as he was checking and triple checking his bag so much that they had to practically force him out of the door. “Okay okay I'm going no need to push!” He complained as Roger manhandled him out of the door and left him in the hallway looking desperately at Freddie over his shoulder as the door closed. Roger seemed fairly satisfied with his work as he waved Brian off like a rather patronising dad on his child's first day back, thankfully him and Freddie didn't have nearly as many lectures to go to and so half the amount of stress/walking. However this did mean they had to use their time to find someone who wasn't a 'nut job’, which as it turned out was a surprisingly difficult task.

They put out posters everywhere; the posters being written hurriedly in black marker and slammed up anywhere they could find. Some with details of where they were, who they needed and what to expect, others the barely legible words “come pay us rent please” and their address added neatly afterwards. Whilst Roger went out and assaulted people in the street to get their attention, Freddie went to work and brought their neatest flyer with him. 

The shop was deep in a corner of Hackney, undoubtedly not the most productive or highly paid job he could have gone for but something about the cramped shop gave him a sense of comfort. Every shelf was lined with China or street signs, rope, dresses and records from a long forgotten time. Even the owner seemed to be collecting dust as he stood still behind the hidden counter; he was lent so far into his arm Freddie feared he might even be dead. Fortunately, he was not.

“You're late.” He grumbled, maybe it wasn't so fortunate after all.  
“Yes uh sorry I'll be right there!” He shouted behind him as he wiped his sleeve across the most visible area of the window and blu-tacked the flyer. “There's boxes!”  
Freddie knew by now that there were no new boxes, just the same ones he made him move around to slightly different locations. When he got the chance Fred was sure he would revamp the place and give it the soul he could feel begging to be free. Every part of it was beautiful and full of hidden treasures, there could be coffee where the counter was, seating on the left, clothes not shoved on shelves but displayed in all of their finery. There was one particular black and gold patterned waterfall robe that he was sure Roger would look absolutely darling in if he could convince him to put the damn thing on.

In fact, that might not be much of a challenge, but the 1940s pull over he had set aside in his mind for Brian would be a doddle. The shoes were boring as ever, maybe some that would suit the odd female impersonator, but most would look more at home in the closet of a housewife of the period. Of course he would love the dresses but he didn't have the shape.

Then there was the fabrics! He was enticed by the cramped corner full of fabric rolls from every era imaginable. Flower patterns with huge pink dahlias or tiny black details, stripes and dots and scenes macabre. Those would make great curtains, that one for a bedspread to go brilliantly with the new wallpaper! So much potential… all hoarded by a complete bore with no sense of style and a rather fabulous moustache Freddie couldn't really mark him down for. 

His day went about as quickly as Brian's, they shared and image of patient doodling inside notebooks to pass the time. Just because Brian's happened to be of scientific nature and Freddie's of a rather fetching hat it did not mean either held less merit. 

Roger would like to have said he'd waited patiently (well actually he was rather pleased with the result) but he may have gone overboard slightly in his enthusiasm with finding a new roommate. Fully with good intentions he found himself breathing out a lungful of smoke into the already misty air floating around the ceiling of his room with a partially naked woman laid beside him. She was quite nice, very… passionate, but probably not one for the list since he had already shagged her once and wasn't planning on moving in with her straight after. It was a shame really because she had sounded quite intelligent somewhere between the street and his bed. At least he was more relaxed about the whole situation now, overall it had probably been a good decision that he couldn't look like a cunt for when the others came home; he really had been trying his best.

She was tangled up in his patchwork blanket and holding on tightly to his ragged rose pattern cushion. It wasn't exactly a discreet position like the movies show it to be, it seemed to be covering all the parts that didn't need to be and showing all the bits that were definitely meant to be hidden. He let out a soft giggle before throwing himself back onto the bed and allowing his half naked body to relax completely before he stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray of his bedside table. It was fine, he was sure none of them were due home for a while, maybe this one would have to be shoved out of the window too? she might find it exciting, they sometimes did if they weren't swearing they would ruin his name with all the girls. Clearly Jean had been lying because she came back for another ten goes, delightful girl, her dad had worked in the corner shop.

The sound of the door slamming rose both him and- um … her. “Oh hello, sorry you might have to leave now,” he told her with a sloppy grin and throwing miscellaneous clothes in her direction. She didn't complain, like he said, quite nice and probably intelligent.   
“Roger not on the counter, we have to eat there!” Freddie’s voice screamed out from the kitchen seeing where Roger had obviously lost track of the house tour a few hours ago. “Well I was going to tell you the good news that I found someone to move in, that doesn't seem such a good option now.” He announced as he walked through the door glad he was covered up enough that Freddie couldn't see his skinny legs and grabbing a crumpet that had been left on the side by Brian that morning. “Well I found quite a few people who were interested, all utter dicks of course.” He muttered with a sigh, “although some were promising and didn't seem totally brain dead, they'll be coming later with any luck.” Roger grinned and elbowed him as … Lisa? Yeah Lisa (probably) Snuck out behind them and waved coyly at Roger who couldn't help but grin wider. “Freddie you are an absolute star!”   
“Oh yes darling, I know.”

As they had both predicted, the group of misfits that turned up just weren't quite right, most were too desperate. Some just didn't have the right personality and seemed to send Roger into a serious, person choosing mood which left Freddie in awe of the fact that he managed to hide his sensible side so deeply within everything else. Eventually it got tiring dealing the amount of just not quite right people who had turned up; of course Roger took down all of the numbers, marking clearly the ones definitely not to call back.

By the end they only had two more people who had turned up in the short notice and neither of them seemed particularly appealing, that was until the last turned around and smiled slightly nervously but a bright smile nevertheless, and Freddie was in complete adoration. His return smile lit up the room and instantly made the man untense his muscles and relax where he stood with a far more quiet and confident aura than before. The other option however was far less appealing and seemed to have taken an interest in picking at his acne rather than gaining an apartment. “We only really have time for one more person-” Freddie started, but seeing that his new friend would rather not throw someone out of their apartment Roger jumped in and strolled over to the guy with complete confidence and put his hand on his shoulder. “Maybe next time mate.” he said, nodding as he opened the door and gestured towards it, a large and obviously fake smile plastered over his face right up until the door was slammed. “Right!” he rubbed his hands together eagerly, “welcome sir!” 

Now Roger was smiling for real.

“I’m John, John Deacon.” He spoke firmly and quietly but with a hint of nerves, both of them couldn’t help but admire his accent because it was just so amazingly… english. “Welcome to our humble home, John!” Roger added as he slid past Freddie and motioned to show John around. His first reaction seemed positive enough for Roger to turn around to Freddie with an encouraging gesture and grin which Freddie shortly returned. “Tell us about yourself?” he asked John who was now awkwardly smiling at Roger, not quite sure what he was meant to be doing. “Well I'm uh- I'm 19, it's my first year doing electrical engineering and I wasn't quite expecting to be here but my other offer fell through…” so, thought Freddie, he was the youngest, he was lost, and he was perfectly adorable: everything he needed in a friend to contrast the other two and just maybe make him incredibly happy.

Roger came to pretty much the same conclusion; “finally someone young, we can ditch the two grandads and go it alone!” He laughed a wide and cheesy smile and clapping John on the back. Freddie couldn't help but laugh at Johns exited surprise at the exuberance of the man next to him, his face suddenly lit up with a grin and a small jump at the contact. Freddie was also sure he needed to call him something other than John, it seemed so boring for someone who clearly had wealths of untapped potential. John deacon… Johnny? Deacon… Deacy? Yes! That was perfect, quiet and reserved and surprisingly cheeky.

Whilst they had unceremoniously crammed Deaky into the kitchen, freddie and Roger spoke in hushed tones. “He's perfect! I he probably can't afford it after all this.”   
“Oh don't be so pessimistic Roger,”  
“Oi cheeky I'm just being realistic!”

“I can hear you!” John called from the kitchen, turning up at the door with an unclaimed mug and a small smile showing he knew he was making a joke. Instantly they both felt him slip into their lives perfectly. “I should probably leave now but thank you for showing me around, I'll leave my number-” he pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, very prepared, “-here, and you can get back to me.” He said, following all societies norms and structures to the t, suddenly very confident in his plainness… some kind of mystery to the other two. Just as he was about to close the door Roger called out after him, “how about you move in now?!” And John couldn't really say he wanted to say anything other than yes, absolutely.

Once Brian got back he had to admit he was shocked, first and foremost at the ability of the others to succeed in something important that they said they were going to do. Secondly because this was not the man he had expected at all! Yes, his hair was long but that was the most 'them’ thing about him, his clothes were fairly plain, stylish but not too extravagant… and he was quiet, it almost seemed like he was shy but not quite. There was just something so pleasingly welcoming and slightly cheeky about him. He was perfect!.

It was their first night as a group, their first proper night together before all the craziness of university and young adult life came crashing down around them. This group of misfits who didn't seem to belong together at all had just one remaining night of freedom for the foreseeable future; what would they choose to do with it?

“That is not a word! John tell him that 'Qat’ is not a word!”  
“Actually,” exclaimed Roger, “I read it in my textbook this morning so I think you'll find it is mister science man!” Brian looked to John with pleading eyes, it didn't even have a U, what triple letter Q word doesn't have a U in it?? “I'm afraid he's right, it's in the dictionary,” he shrugged back, smiling as Roger nudged his arm and grinned, “nice one Deaky.” The man was so clearly proud of himself and Freddie couldn't help but notice that as Brian got more and more irritated with him Roger just kept on doing better, he was smarter than any of them have him credit for. And the new boy was just a mystery hidden behind a small, green, regulation 1972 Scrabble dictionary. Intriguing.

“The timer's going Bri-” Freddie reminded him as he sat staring at his letters intensely for the third minute in a row. Brian flapped his hand in his face, “I know I know I've nearly got one!”   
“Ooh he's nearly got one!” Mimicked Roger as Brian continued to look longingly at the tiles, hoping they would form into some brilliant word like 'quagmire’ and land on a double word. “Oh fuck off!” Brian called out in surrender with a small giggle afterwards, the best he could do was a measly ‘bog’ giving Roger the game and Freddie and John a good laugh at the disgraced astrophysicist.

The four stayed where they were for the next hour or so after eating, talking and taking in as much as they could about each others personal lives whilst they still had the chance. With the exception of John getting up to make cheese on toast using Brian's last piece of the expensive cheddar from waitrose, they barely moved an inch. But most important was the twinkle in Freddie's eye when he found out John Deacon played Bass.


	3. Calling all Boys

Freddie Mercury really liked sex. It wasn't a bad thing (at least he didn't think so), sex was wonderful and most people tended to agree. He loved being hot and sweaty and feeling the intricacies of another person, or two, he loved the feeling of completely letting go. However there was one thing above anything else that Freddie wanted more than sex. This was something he didn't want so much as need, yearn for to the point of complete adoration. See, the one thing above sex and art and music that Freddie Mercury loved was to love and be loved in return.

 

He didn't mean childish, schoolboy love either; Freddie's love was strong and full of hugs and kisses (and of course, lots of sex). It was love letters and poems and huge gestures with nicknames and declarations of undying love, no matter how true they may be. He could only remember one truly loving relationship he had been in that hadn't manipulated him as so many others had. He had been wonderful.

But thanks to people and their unfounded hatred of anything other than the mundane, he had left three summers ago and never come back. They had sent letters and continued with the 'love you forever’ and quiet signatures of personal nicknames, but as said before, Freddie Mercury really likes sex.

 

Even with the knowledge that their relationship had been beautiful and passionate and longing in all the right ways, when he was gone Freddie's body had begun to think differently. Even to this point he still longed for that feeling back, but he had given it up for sweaty, mindless sex. Yes, the fun kind, but not the kind that kept you warm at night when you needed a jumper with a familiar smell and a strong arm to keep you in tight.

 

Freddie had to admit he was unlucky in love, maybe it was his fault, maybe he either fell too hard or not hard enough. Just maybe he was destined to be to forward and too shy, too argumentative and too occupied with resolution. All of the maybes filled his head every single time he saw someone who wasn't just shaggable, but was snuggleable too. 

 

But for now, during those in-between moments, Freddie Mercury really liked sex. 

And anything that would make that sex more exciting.

 

All four of them were now fully involved in university life, Roger surprising them all by getting up early and being at all prepared for his 11:30 lecture on Ecology. He did happen to find it more comfortable in classes now he hadn't slept with at least a quarter of the room. Obviously that would change soon but that didn't seem like much of an issue for now. 

 

He managed to note down everything with only minimal difficulty and find time to spin his pencil between his fingers whilst thinking of all the wonderful and weird things he might be able to get up to at a later date. 

Him and Brian had agreed to meet at 1 in the café by the park, coincidentally right next to Brian's lecture hall and all the way across the river from Roger's but that was neither here nor there. 

 

As he strolled out at 12:45, happily accepting the giggles from a nearby group of girls who were eagerly whispering about some tale that he couldn't remember. Although from the sound of it he had been having a great and scandalous time, undoubtedly it was true.

 

Brian too was very much glad of something to do and the start of a new year, even if it did mean more work because it was just fascinating! Nothing enthralled him more than the mysterious space hanging above us, show him stars and guitars and he could sit for hours in awe of how beautiful the world could be. His workload had grown exponentially since last year and now his lanky frame was accompanied with a small slant from carrying his shoulder bag and the weight of his guitar on the same shoulder. 

 

He was satisfactorily late to meet up with Roger, he knew that his friend would be a fuming blond mess when he got there and of course that just made it a bit more fun. 

Brian made only a little effort to go fast enough down the pavement to get there just in time to avoid a bollocking, the scenery was pleasing enough to use as an excuse.

 

As he pushed open the door he could feel Roger's glare land on his clogs and fire up to his face; surrendering seemed like a very viable option. He thrust his hands in the air and smiled, “I'm sorry! I know, the walk took a little longer than expected that's all,” Brian smiled coyly, knowing full well Roger wouldn't be able to sulk. “Its right across the road! Maybe if you didn't wear those stupid shoes all the time you'd walk faster.” He heard Roger mutter into his shoulder as he sat and chucked his bag on the nearest available seat to take the strain off his back. “Hey don't diss the shoes, the one rule,” Brian reminded him, suddenly with a mock anger that Roger smirked just a little at.

 

Brian ordered his black tea and chocolate cake (slightly too indulgent if he did say so himself) and Roger his double espresso, knowing full well he would steal as much of Brian's cake as he could manage to fit in his gob. “Freddie's meeting us in ten, said we'd look over some of his designs,” he threw away casually in favour of staring out of the window. “You two seem to be getting on well, all this fashion talk, people might think there's something untoward.”

“Oi shut it, you're still on thin fucking ice, May.” 

Brian laughed and leant towards Roger, his temper tended to get him into funny states, Brian knew he shouldn't laugh but he just couldn't help himself sometimes. “A joke, it's a joke Rog, of course we'll take a look at Fred's stuff, it's better than anything either of us could come up with, I don't know why you don't hire him as a stylist and do away with those ratty jumpers.”

Trying to hide his amusement Roger just stared away, “thin fucking ice.” 

Unfortunately, a soft chuckle got through.

 

John sat on a bench next to Freddie with a cheese and ham sandwich just like his mum used to make them. His hair kept on getting caught in the mayo at the bottom every time the wind flicked it, he didn't think Freddie  had noticed but of course he had and was trying not to laugh and help him every time it happened again. People were walking fast around them at every angle, it was a John was sure it was a miracle that lead to him being sat here with someone the polar opposite of him in every sense and somehow still feeling at ease. Although he didn't quite, he knew where Freddie was meant to be and what he would rather be doing than staring at him and his ham. He knew full well that a giggle with Roger was ten times more fun than whatever he had to offer. “You should be getting to the others, I'll be fine here,” he protested, only deciding to because  Freddie had just had to stare off a passerby who seemed to think aggressive glaring was an appropriate past time. “Oh don't be ridiculous, Roger will manage without me for a few minutes.”

And then completely by accident and of the volition of John's adorable smile a few minutes turned into hours and by the time they all made it back Roger was ever so slightly miffed.

 

“I’m only talking to Brian! he's a mouthy bastard but at least he shows up at all.” Roger muttered in response to Freddie's attempts at apology, even though technically he hadn't even confirmed he was coming and he was sure that should stand for something. “I'll take that as a compliment thanks Rog,” came the sigh of an exhausted Brian who had made the wise decision that tea was probably a better past time than this. “Actually I'm not angry at Deaky either, just you!”

 

Freddie sighed and brought his hands up to his face before turning back to Roger with the best apologetic look on his face he could manage, “Roger this is silly, I've told you I'm sorry.”

“Come on Roger,” Deaky piped in, feeling slightly responsible for Freddie's current position in the dog house, “calm down a bit it's not healthy.”

“Oh fuck calming down! Is Brian the only friend I have anymore?!”

Freddie gasped, “don't be so fucking ridiculous!”

All eyes shot to Brian who had been in the process of cooling down his tea and taking the tentative first sip, “I'm staying out of it.” He laughed as Roger made a face and Freddie so clearly sunk a little deeper inside. But before he could hear Rogers thankyou Freddie had kicked his leg, which would have been innocent enough had it not traveled the whole way up his body and spilt a carefully brewed and delicately cooled mug of tea right on his jeans (the second pair ruined that week). Now that was it, Brian thought in a split second of sudden anger and launched the mug towards Freddie who ducked perfectly and it shattered on the floor behind him. 

 

Then there was a real silence, not even an angry silence just one laced with the thick discomfort of what on earth to do next. The scene was almost completely laughable, all three long haired and dressed with heels or eyeliner and stood in silence with comic expressions of shock. 

 

“That was my favourite mug.”

 

“I'm sorry… what?”

 

There was a giggle from Roger. 

And then a slight chuckle from Freddie.

 

“Well I uh-” replied Deaky, quite unsure of just what was so funny, “I brought us new mugs… I quite liked that one.”

 

“I'm-” Roger began to laugh, he began to laugh properly and loudly, “did Brian just throw a mug of tea at your face?!” 

Then Deaky realised why it all just seemed a bit too funny to be serious and a grin grew on his face, “yes! My favourite one.” 

“You nearly hit me!” Freddie yelled at Brian accusingly, “with John's favourite mug!” Added Roger who was suffering intensely from the giggles. In fact at this point all of them had caught it, no one more so than Brian who seemed to need to sit down from a mix of laughter and complete shock.

“I didn't know you had it in you Bri!” Roared Roger, both of them were too busy laughing to manage to utter a single word in response. 

 

“It's not funny!” the validity of Freddie's objection was brought into question a bit when he snorted halfway through the sentence, “I could have died!” 

For Roger that was it, he leant himself against the sofa and laughed until he thought he might burst if he laughed anymore. 

 

They all stayed in the living room for the next ten minutes, only just about managing to shake off the giggles before Freddie realised he had tea all over his hair and had to rush to the shower to clean it out, that just made it worse! John sighed his final laugh, leaning against Roger's shoulder and smiling quietly to himself about a situation he was so happy to be in. “I'll buy you a new mug John,” Brian promised; it didn't matter really, it wasn't really that nice in the first place, but it was the thought that counted.

 

Whilst Freddie was in the shower, Deaky and Roger took it upon themselves to check with the first rent payment. Now all four of them were here the budget seemed endless (although, as Roger would sadly discover, it wasn't), they could afford rent, food and the occasional luxury item as long as no one blew it on clothes or gifts for women they were never going to see again. As long as Roger got himself a more permanent job other than selling hand-me-downs and things Freddie found on a market stall things were almost looking up. But there was still one thing that seemed to be missing from the whole set up...

 

A soggy haired Freddie appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, staring at the three of them scattered  around the living area. “Right lovies! It's a Friday and we are going out!” he yelled through the house as he did what could only be referred to as a strut through the door to his and Rogers room. He could hear Roger cheering to Brian behind him as he began pawing through the clothes on the floor to find something a little more exciting than his basic flared jeans and tight t-shirt combo. Bouncing into the room, Roger chucked a velvet jacket in Freddie's direction and threw himself on the bed with a puff of dust. “How hard are you planning on going Fred?” He asked out of a strong curiosity and partly a hopeful hint that he would finally have someone who enjoyed letting loose as much as he did. “Oh, if you know me at all you'll know I don't do half measures,” Freddie laughed in response; his eyes focused on the full length mirror as he tried on a rather extravagant looking hat, each pose more scandalous than the last. “Give that here!” Roger called, jumping up and grabbing it from Freddie's head before shoving it hard on his own and running out of the room to show Brian. 

 

Brian could hear Freddie shouting “I'm naked!” As a warning to Roger running full speed past him and showing off some sort of bizarre headpiece, he couldn't help but laugh along with him. “Roger you rotter! Give it back!” Yelled Freddie as he scrambled out of the door and into the living room, the chase was on! Finally Brian had proved to Freddie he wasn't a complete bore as grabbed the hat from Roger, jumped on the sofa and used his unfair height advantage to hold it above them both. Freddie was rather annoyed that this was the way brian chose to show his rebellious side since it involved clogs on the upholstery and his feathered hat on the ceiling.

 

The game continued, Roger jumped behind the sofa to shove Brian and gain control. Then Freddie caught him behind the table and would have won too if he hadn't got his hair caught in the join! Then back to Brian, to Roger, finally a misjudged throw sent it in Freddie's direction and-

 

The three of them stopped, quite unsure of how this was going to go down, the hat was now lying at the bottom of a neat pair of suede boots. John had been here for a week now and was only properly starting to relax, somehow they couldn't predict what was going to happen next. Brian worried he looked angry, Freddie hoped to god he wasn't and Roger knew he could see some kind of twinkle in his eye as if something was about to happen. “No!” Roger yelled but it was too late, now Deaky had possession! And the grin on his face said it all.

 

Eventually, after a very long chase that none of them won, they all ended up breathlessly giggling on the floor by the sofa. “Today had been more exercise than I've ever done in my life! I don't know if I can face going out?” Brian asked and ruffled his hair for no reason other than it felt quite fun to do so. However Roger seemed utterly outraged at the idea he might not get to try out his new seducing walk he'd been practicing in the mirror or the new waistcoat he had procured from Freddies work when no one was looking. “Don't be such a bore! Of course we're going out, aren't we Fred?” 

Freddie gave a look to John who nodded after a moment of thought before speaking “of course we are. And we are going to get absolutely shit faced!” 

 

Even though Brian didn't feel like his professor would particularly appreciate a 'shitfaced’ student he couldn't help but think it might actually be fun. He knew Roger liked to go wild and he was sure that by the looks of it Freddie did too; despite his lack of mischief making up to this point. So with reservations him and John agreed to throw on something extravagant and let Freddie and Roger lead them out into the night of London. Reluctantly, John had squeezed into some of Roger's more interesting and lacy clothes rather than his simple jeans and T-shirt like he had wanted. He didn't exactly object to the idea of this style but he couldn't see the necessity of it during what he hoped would be a fairly chilled night out.

 

After an irritatingly long time of Freddie demanding to dress Deaky in something other than a t-shirt, they left the house. Of course there was more colour, shine and flare than had at all been necessary for the local pub but none of them were ever anything but dressed to impress.

 

As the second youngest, Roger had taken it upon himself to look after their newest member on the mean streets of London town. The kid was a good laugh, surprisingly witty and, from what Roger could tell, seemed to have an amazing talent to be utterly adorable. However, from his years of experience Roger had also learned that being adorable does not get you a good lay. 

“What about that girl there?” he asked, pointing to a rather attractive blonde and her friend, “she looks like she'd go for you at a push,” he joked, elbowing Deaky in the ribs. “Roger, stop it!” Freddie commanded as he took control of the rather bemused boy and dragging him away from Roger who was now attempting to talk to the blonde in a drastic attempt to have what he considered fun. “He must stop doing that.” Freddie mused, “I'd go and stand with Bri before I have another drink and join him!” He laughed lightly and grinned at John who was smiling right back. “I'll be fine as long as you stick around, get me another drink and I might even join him,” he gestured towards Roger, who inexplicably had his leg up on the table, trying to get the girl to feel it. It was sometimes a mystery how Roger got as many girls as he did.

 

“Okay, just make sure you do lots of dancing and absolutely no drugs.” He insisted with a parental tone before sending John back out into the throng of people with a rum and coke. He had no idea why he felt so inclined to keep him away from the things he spent his whole life gravitating towards. Maybe it was because of some subconscious feeling he could have had more, or maybe it was just the innocent look in the guys eyes. 

 

No matter now because John had since downed his glass in one and taken over where Roger left off with the quieter of the two girls. He gave a smile to Freddie, just to check his confidence was still in place and slowly he began to shuffle to the music. It wasn't much but boy the kid could dance.

 

Now Freddie had no cause to look after anyone or stay sober he wandered back to Roger with a pint and a small bag of pills in his back pocket just incase. Brian politely declined as he watched them disappear into the throng of people, he sat with his drink slowly getting a little drinker and wondering if Deaky would come back and join him, wherever he was. He was sure he saw Freddie eyeing up a scarily large man by the door but he was sure that couldn't have been right… but at a second glance maybe it was.

 

Finally after twenty minutes of being alone at a table and politely nodding to all the strangers who saw him, John returned, carrying two girls in his wake.

“This is Veronica!” He shouted very excitedly to Brian over the chatter, gesturing with a sheepish grin to the mousy haired girl next to him. “Oh and what was your name again sorry? … Mary! That's right, and this is Mary.” Brian nodded with sympathy towards Mary who didn't look used to being completely forgotten, although truth be told she didn't really mind, John wasn't really her type. However what he couldn't help noticing was that John seemed to be dancing, ever so slightly where he stood. “John are you… dancing?” 

“Is there anything wrong with that?” He asked, seeming suddenly far more confident than he had any right to be without Freddie or Roger around. “Blimey mate how many drinks have you had?” Brian asked over the music as he started to get more funky and Veronica started to dance with him. “One or two?” He shouted back before he started to move away from Brian and be completely enthralled with his dancing and the girl doing it with him. “Or five-” he muttered under his breath, getting up to follow him into the crowd just incase, and taking Mary with him. He couldn't understand what John seemed to like about this music so much, it was just disco- not that there was anything wrong with disco but well… there's not exactly much more to it. 

 

Although Brian had to admit that now they had started dancing (and Mary was surprisingly good company for someone Roger had picked out), he was actually having a good time. A good time that was, as of that moment in time, completely free of anything worrying or exhausting.

 

“Brian!”

 

He had spoken far too soon.

 

“Brian!” Roger was cutting his way through the crowd, his voice unmistakable as he headed towards Brian at an alarming pace, followed shortly by Freddie who had been dragged away from the man Brian had seen earlier. “Where's Deaky?!” Roger yelled, grabbing Brian's shoulders and looking around. “Uh… he's right there, dancing. Roger whats-”

Before he could get another word out Roger had grabbed Deaky and Freddie was looking flustered trying to get Roger's attention as a very angry and very big man was walking with purpose, most likely looking for the skinny blond boy who had not only seen his girlfriend flash her tits but openly complimented him on his choice of woman. A slight misjudgement on Roger's part.

 

“Roger, Roger hurry up!” Freddie urged, smiling sympathetically at Brian and looking ever more worried as the approaching man, juggernaut was probably a better term, started making a bit too much noise for their liking. 

Finally Roger ran past with a confused looking John on his arm and a shout hoping the other two would pick up and follow him. And they did, Brian only because he was sure his arm would snap like a twig if the offending man got a hold on it.

 

For the second time that day they really looked a sight. Veronica and Mary would have told you the same thing as they stood completely unaware of what on earth was going on. The four were not at all meant for running and most certainly not dressed for it. In a tangle of limbs and flares and boots and hair they ran unceremoniously towards the door and out down whatever road they could manage as the confused crowd spilled out of the pub.

 

As he felt his side clench from lack of exercise Brian made a mental note to fucking kill Roger if he ever got the chance.

 

Today had been absolutely ri-fucking-diculous!

 

They were all breathless and laughing as they ran with limp limbs and the clump of heeled boots. Roger signaled for them all to stop, which Brian was particularly glad of as he bent over and clutched his raging stitch. The street was small and quiet with grass ridges at either side to full the sound of Deaky's feet as he walked to a stop. “Roger I can't believe you-all” he muttered with a grin, he too clearly hadn't done enough running in school telling by the raggedness of his breath. “I can!” Brian laughed before taking a seat on the verge next to where Deaky had unceremoniously placed himself. It was cold and damp but it was better to be sitting than standing after yet another dramatic mess caused by Roger. “In my defense, you lot really pissed me off today,” he held up his hands in surrender with a sarcastic smile that turned into a real one when he saw the awe on Freddie's face. “Roger that was bloody brilliant!” 

 

In a split second Freddie had jumped up and a light had flicked in his eyes; there was a feeling of excitement that almost made them nervous for what was coming. When Freddie lit up, and I mean really came out of his shell and lit up, it always meant something new was happening. “Darlings let's do it!”

His voice was crisp and cut through the night air, his anticipation almost bubbling over from something they couldn't quite work out yet, but Roger was sure he could tell even if Brian and John couldn't, he had been thinking the same thing. 

“... Do what, Fred?” Asked Brian, slowly leaning back, John doing the opposite next to him and leaning forwards in anticipation. “Start a band! What have we got to lose?! I know you've been thinking about it Rog dear and I'll bet Brian's had it ticking away under all that nonsense about stars-” 

 

Brian thought for a second and realised in fact that he had been, his head tilted to the side as he thought of all the mini notes in the back of his textbooks that were scribbled lyrics or tabs of simple riffs he couldn't quite place. And Deaky, he was new to the idea completely but without a moment's hesitation he knew at least that it was going to be fun; he may be scared or apprehensive and considered himself slightly devoid of creativity but it didn't matter really did it? If he could do this, if they could all do this after knowing each other together for just over a week then what could they do to a whole crowd. 

 

“Freddie Mercury, you're a genius! Of course we'll fucking do it, what  **_do_ ** we have to lose?” Roger shouted to fill the brimming silence, Brian smiled from his seat on the ground and looked all of them in the eye; “nothing.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Jim comes in soon and that they spend a lot less time running and laughing for the rest (unfortunately)!
> 
> Sorry this one was so late, feedback is always appreciated!


	4. Young and you're crazy

Roger seemed less interested in his potential customers and more in trying on the clothes himself. Who, though, could blame him? He did just look absolutely stunning in that lacey blazer, and he wasn't sure many people could pull it off. The good thing about the market stall was that he didn't have to live in any fear of strange men deciding he was too feminine or were just clearly jealous enough of his style to the point of violence. 

 

That day he had about five customers on the stall, not enough to make a decent profit but enough to survive and prove to Brian he wasn't utterly useless. The blazer hung off him very nicely, he thought, the shadows hung just right, the texture was amazing and all in all he felt like a princess! The only reason he was trying it now was because one man earlier had expressed and interest in buying it and when he tried it on Roger had almost died after seeing how beautiful it was and just had to have it for himself. If only the rest of his outfit was less boring and blue then he would be the star of the show here in a small corner of Kensington.

 

At the moment, the stall was shoved in a corner and draped with items at every angle, ranging from the vintage and trendy to the untouchables. It was like an aladdin's cave behind there; every angle had something hanging or thrown over a beam and Roger wouldn't change it for the world. It was a little darker behind where him and Freddie had shoved the mirror but he didn't really care because it felt cozy and comfortable, far more than any of those open ended stalls. And so currently, Roger was taking time out of being a responsible business owner to make sure his legs didn't look too awful in these blue jeans. 

 

Freddie had promised he would only be gone an hour to get the new stock from his work but in typical Freddie style it was half an hour til closing time. If sending Deaky going with him hadn't managed to keep him on time then there really was no hope.

 

“Roger! Darling!”

 

Ah, speak of the Devil!

 

Freddie was followed by a jogging John who had managed to get away with only holding two pairs of jeans when Freddie was overloaded with scraps and fabric, enough to pin him to the floor. “Sorry we're late Rog, my fault,” he muttered as Freddie dumped his handfuls on the already overflowing table and stepped back to take a breath. Roger wasn't completely convinced.

 

They hadn't really had enough customers that day to warrant such a large amount of clothing and Roger wasn't completely sure if he should bring it up but Freddie was one step ahead. 

 

“So I was thinking, if we're going to perform on a stage we have to look the part, we can't just wear jeans.” Roger and John looked to each other, noticing that even Rogers look seemed a little dulled down today and knowing Freddie they would be dressed head to toe in finery. However Roger's idea of finery was a little different from Freddie's it seemed, as, with none of them being particularly accomplished seamstresses, there was a lot of scrap fabric. 

 

He would almost go as far to say it was an irredeemable pile of crap, only if he was having a bad day. 

 

“This piece would make a fantastic patch for those run down jeans, and this! Now if we just flared out the arms Deaky would finally start to look the part!” He gushed as he pulled odd pieces and such out of the massive mound he had hauled across London. John didn't look too impressed with the whole idea but they could both tell that deep inside he was a style queen waiting to erupt.

 

Now, saying that it looked like an awful lot of rubbish, Roger had spotted one item that looked absolutely gorgeous. Without any hesitation he yanked it from the bottom and started parading in front of the mirror. It's was black with gold detail and just a little silky and ill fitting on his torso, exactly how he liked it. 

It was then that he began to picture it, exactly what Freddie had in mind for all of them.

Light and clothes with heels and glitter, playing to hundreds… no, thousands. Partying and writing and sweating under harsh stage lights just to hear  _ their  _ music being played.

 

It was then, as Roger admired himself in the mirror, wide eyed at possibility, that Deaky realised the truth of what he had agreed to. He hadn't just rented a flat oh no it was so much bigger than that. This creeping feeling that he may belong felt the need to work itself inside until he could almost see himself in black lace in front of a crowd.

 

And it was then that Freddie knew he had made the right choice, finally in his life he had something, he was something. He had always known he was a star, but it seemed now that the rest of the world were starting to catch up.

 

“Brian won't like this,” Roger laughed after a brief period of silence, gesturing to the clothes. “I don't like it already,” joked Deaky, knowing full well that it was going to be an interesting day trying to convince Brian to accept a floor full of… whatever this was.

 

It wasn't as though Brian didn't want to encourage their creativity, but one, he knew just as well as the rest of them that they weren't quite capable of the clothing masterpieces Freddie had in mind. And two, it would all make it seem so very real, so serious that he might even freak out just a little. Roger knew how to stop that from happening though, he knew it would all be okay and that maybe with the promise of that flared shirt Freddie mentioned it might even turn out that Bri was more enthusiastic than Roger himself.

 

Before they could drag home the mountain of fabric, they had to actually finish a final hour at the stall, which now Freddie and Deaky were here, was going to be a lot more interesting. There was a man two stalls down who must have been about 70 at least and had oddly knowing eyes. Roger wasn't a fan of him at all and tried to avoid his glance so as not to freak him out for the rest of the day. Freddie, however, loved him and could spend hours listening to his stories and buying old tat from him. This particular time It was him against the other two trying to convince them that he really did need this old inkwell for the desk in his and Rogers room. 

 

Apparently the man's name was Jerry but Freddie had decided that to everyone including Jerry he was to be known as magpie due to the amounts of unexplainable shiny objects that happened to appear on his stall. Maybe he was a genie and that's why he looked so knowing, or maybe Roger was just a little paranoid. Either way, the final hour trying to drag Freddie away from magpies stall and his war stories (that always seemed a little more homoerotic than they should be) was more difficult than first anticipated.

 

As usual not many people came to buy their odd hand-me-downs (except the odd hipster) and so the the end of squabbling, packing up and trying on their own wares went by quickly. Meaning they were able to have everything thrown in the back of their van and ready to leave by five. Roger, of course, was choosing the music on the way back.

 

“We're home darling!” Came the ring of Freddie's voice through the apartment and hitting Brian in the ear. He had been eagerly studying as much as possible to make up for lost time due to whatever band rehearsal they were planning on doing. Now that really was a good question. 

They all knew what instruments they were playing and yes they had some song ideas from all four of them but no where to rehearse, no gigs or proper songs or even a name. At the moment there was just this abstract idea of a band that they had supposedly agreed upon but nothing had come of. That didn't so much worry Brian as make him realise that soon enough all of that would have to be decided. It was fine when it was nothing serious, when you were drunk and high off adrenaline and didn't have to think about it. To be honest, he wasn't even 100% sure they would be good enough to do anything more than simple rock and roll in pubs on Saturday evenings. 

 

They all wanted more than that, Freddie of course but more secretly Brian too though he was scared of any push that could mean failure. Roger may not have ideals of being famous now but the moment there was a chance they all knew he would grab it by the balls and run as loudly as he could manage. But John? He didn't care if it got him fame or is he ended up fixing people's stereos to pay for his kids tuition fees, he was just happy to be a part of something that could be everything.

 

Brian was snapped out of his train of thought by the three boys dragging in armfuls each of unsold stock, Freddie's finds and Deaky's sneak purchases he secretly thought were quite good. It was a sight to behold given that they were on the fourth floor and none of them were particularly fit. 

 

“You managing alright there?” He asked with an air of smugness as Roger huffed out a defeated breath to brush his sweaty fringe out of his eye. “Oh yeah we're just fine here, don't worry about us!” 

Brian smiled and nodded, taking a bit out of his toast. Brian gestured with his pen towards the load that had just been dumped on his living room floor, “What is all  _ this _ anyway?” 

“Curtains, cushion covers, well it could be a fucking blanket if you want dear! But it's ours, all ours to make something out of this drab little frame.”

John turned to face Freddie, stretching out his back, “are you talking about us or the house?”

“There's nothing drab about us! We just need a little eccentricity.”

 

John doubted he would enjoy this so called 'eccentricity’, but who ever got anywhere in jeans and a t-shirt.

 

They started with the house, mixing decoration with planning and general lazing about. Meaning that after deciding where everything was to go Freddie sat down with John to decide on rehearsal spaces and band names whilst Brian’s lanky frame was taken advantage of to hang curtains. These particular ones were a heavy deep red and cream paisley which would have been disgusting anywhere else but somehow, after the random pillows and decorative vases had been added, actually looked quite good. 

 

Before this point they had already set aside pillows and cushions to be re-covered, the old dresses Freddie was planning on making into jackets and t-shirts and a whole pile of trinkets and flowers to decorate what was left of uncluttered surface. The colour scheme at the moment was a mix of deep red and dark browns, making the apartment have a very stylish and regal look to it despite being rather small for the four of them. Freddie had also found blankets for his and Rogers room since it had been decided that the heating was just not good enough for their demanding needs (although with the amount of 'exercise’ that went on in that room every night it was a miracle they ever slept at all). Finally, one extra addition had been a lot of feathers, in every vase, crevice and button hole there had been placed an ostrich, peacock or parrot picked up from some tourist shop in some city by Freddie at some point. Overall it may sound utterly ridiculous and tacky but somehow it managed to appear just the sort of place everyone wanted but couldn't quite manage. 

 

It just needed someone with the guts to pull it off.

 

So as I said, Brian was balanced precariously attempting to hang curtains on a very tricky shaped curtain rail and Freddie and Deaky were discussing band details.

“Oh you're brilliant Deaky! I say go fo the first one, the ceilings more curved and I need all the acoustics I can get for my wonderous voice- Brian! More to the left,”

Brian, who was stood on a chair with three limbs stretched the furthest they could go, was not impressed, “how about you come and do it then! Since you're so good at interior design.”

“Oh don't be silly I haven't got the legs for it.”

 

Of course he didn't have the legs for it. Roger seemed perfectly okay to be throwing cushions from room to room at random but a curtain one inch too far to the right is such a problem! If he hadn't been painstakingly sorting out venues and finances for this band Brian might have been tempted to thump him just to make a point of it. 

“Have we got a name yet?” Roger yelled from somewhere unseen where he was probably still dealing things unnecessarily. “Well I was thinking… we were thinking: Queen?”

 

Oh. They liked that, they really like that a lot.

“I don't know I just thought it was something, you don't have to-”

“Fred.” Interrupted Brian with the biggest smile on his face, “Fred I love it! We love it! How'd you come up with that?”

“Well,” started Freddie, beaming across the room, “it's outrageous, and, especially after we sort out these clothes, I can't think of anyone more outrageous than us.”

 

The house was beautiful, the band had a name and maybe if they could just arrange that rehearsal space the neighbors wouldn't throw them out. Everything seemed perfect, like nothing could go wrong.

 

After a day of looking at beautiful things Freddie had the sudden urge to write again, back to that original idea he had conjured up before. Leaving the other three pouring over paperwork and arguing about who got priority over what song, he snuck back into his room and to the desk. his notebook was just as scruffy as before, if not worse and had a dog ear fold where he had noted down everything last time. Now he had further ideas to make it something meaningful, taking an idea that still ran deep in his brain. That idea that there was someone destined to have meaningful relationship with him, something real.

 

This spurred him on in admirable silence whilst the others played some game of cards in the next room. There was the occasional muter of “oh no not that” or “that's very good” but nothing else besides. 

 

Now at this point in his life Freddie knew there would be a horrible man with a big hairy chest waiting to lure him into a horrible relationship with very good sex and then a horrible morning. He was perfectly aware that this was not the man he was writing about, not the man who he was waiting for, who he loved and who already took his breath away. But he was out there, waiting to make Freddie believe that's who he was. 

 

Freddie also knew that just down the bar from that man was a trucker who's wife didn't know and who would do horrendously naughty things to him in a bathroom stall for as long as he wanted. He wasn't that man either, but Freddie was sure looking forward to meeting him on the way. 

 

And then, right next to the barman, admiring the Twinks from afar, could very well be the person he was writing about. Or maybe he was in a closing coffee bar down the street. Maybe he was at home with his six cats that Freddie would look after as his own? 

 

No matter, tonight he was going to find one of those men, he was going to have the time of his life with a 1 in 3 chance that nothing would ever be the same again. He was going to do that every night he could until his heart gave out or his husband gave in.

 

“Knock knock.”

It was Brian at the door frame, obviously no one else would enter a room and say 'knock knock’.

 

“Yes?”

“We were just wondering if you wanted to join us, we're starting another Scrabble game and Rog has promised that the board will stay on the table this time,” he laughed, still remembering the look on Freddie and John's faces when they first witnessed one of Roger's angry defeats. “Oh no thank you, I'm off out, The Masquerade is calling Brian!”

“Oh, so you are then, we weren't quite sure.” Brian said, surprising Freddie that there had been any doubt he was anything but bent as a finger shut in a car door. “And you don't…?”

Brian's face lit up, “oh don't be stupid of course not, I'm friends with Roger do you think I'd be able to be homophobic? And before you ask, no he's not, he tried it don't get me wrong but I don't think it was for him.”

Freddie just smiled, he would have loved to have seen Roger trying his hand at being a twink, that image made his day.

 

“Right now piss off I have to put my face on!” He announced, putting away his book in a small corner of the desk and fanning Brian out of the room with his hands. A gentle touch of eyeliner and some glitter couldn't go amiss.

 

Freddie left the house at 9:15 pm, Roger got a phone call from someone who sounded suspiciously like Dominique from the floor below and disappeared, leaving Brian and Deaky alone for the night. Brian was amazed at how the man managed to be so efficient in doing everything the way it was supposed to be done and still managing to be entertaining company. Although he figured there was still more to him he hadn't cracked, Roger had weedled out his silly side, making faces at eachother across the room and giggling away at 3am. Freddie had found his serious side, and somehow the drinking side at the same time. And now Brian had to uncover some other piece of the mystery of John Deacon. Maybe some time soon but not now.

 

“Tonight's the third night in a row Fred's been out” he remarked. They both knew that not only was this true, but something wasn't quite right, most of the time Freddie was just as he had always been however just occasionally he would be late and messy and bitchy and seem out of it. Sometimes he would come back a little more gone than he should be and sometimes he would come home much later than he should, with more  numbers written on his arm. Although Freddie was never one to do what was expected of him.

 

Before it hadn't been a problem but slowly, slowly more and more it was becoming obvious that it may be a little more than a boy who liked to party and drink. John said nothing in response, knowing that he didn't want to admit any of it and burst the almost perfect bubble they had. 

 

In two days they would start rehearsing. In two days Freddie and the rest of them could channel their emotions into the music and there would be no slowly underlying problems. In two days everything would be just fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay boys we have some juicy plot coming up in the next two chapters, we've got band, we've got JIM  
> This is more of a filler to set the scene but it's getting thicker :))


	5. It's a hard life

Roger sniffed as he opened his eyes groggily; there was something slightly off about his room this morning, it felt… different. He ignored the feeling in favour of sleep and maybe thinking about a different angle he could look at in his essay due next month (maybe).

  
But it wouldn’t go away-   
Maybe there was a girl he didn’t recognise next to him, that could be it?

 

He turned his head and squinted in the harsh light through the curtains at the smooth blonde head of hair next to him on the pillow, and being a bit of a blanket hog, that explained it.

 

But still… something just seemed a little off and he couldn’t think what it was, yesterday what had they been talking about? They had gone out again (explaining the girl), Deaky had had one too many and had to be dragged off the dancefloor, that wasn’t much of a surprise… and then they talked about the rehearsal tomorrow morning. 

 

Oh well, he pondered, can’t have been that important can it?

Could it be?

 

Fuck.

There was a rehearsal.

He was meant to be at a rehearsal. That rehearsal.

 

Fuck, this wasn’t even his room!

 

He looked around and saw an abundance of clear floor space, pastel tinted colours and jewelry that was far too tacky to be his. 

 

He scrambled up as quickly as possible without waking the sleeping girl, he couldn’t remember her name at all and he figured at this point it would be more polite and less embarrassing to write her a note and never see her again, right? Maybe he would have to skip the note writing he thought as he glanced up at the clock and saw he was meant to be there five minutes ago.

His trousers smelt like booze and his shirt smelt like sex but it didn’t matter, he was used to that, he could cover it up with a good sweaty drumming session if he really tried hard. It was a miracle that he had managed to find his clothes, fall over only once, write his number down just incase she was more of a laugh than she looked and make it to the door without waking her at all. In fact all in all his sudden amounts of bad luck seemed to be turning not so bad at all, all he had to do now was go outside, find a street sign and hopefully know exactly where he was going. There could be no other foreseeable obstacle, nothing else could possibly- shit.

 

And the door was locked and locked well (or strong enough that he couldn’t open it with a gentle and well aimed kick). 

Now Roger wasn’t new to this situation. 

It had happened once before so he knew exactly how to handle it, unfortunately he really didn’t like what was coming next.

 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing!?”   
Roger couldn’t see how it was any of that guys business, frankly him being shouted at might make him more likely to slip down the fourth floor drain pipe onto the street below and, fingers crossed, onto the pedestrian’s head.    
“I’m alright, keep walking pal.” He yelled down, careful not to actually look in that direction in case his better judgement got the best of him.

 

Just one floor left to shimmy and then he was free to find his band, one more floor and he would be smooth sailing. He muttered to himself desperately hoping it was true

 

And lo and behold he was safely with two feet on the ground and only a few mild scrapes and bruises. 

 

This was nothing he couldn't explain away by the time he got there (which he was determined to do). He clapped his hands together after a job well done, a sight to the few onlookers on the not so crowded street who stood still in awe that someone would do something so brave and smart yet so stupid at the same time.

 

After making his way across what was surprisingly only one train station and gaining minimal dirty looks for east London, he made it to the door of the small converted warehouse they had been allowed access to. It didn't look like much from the outside, the doors were a little bust and the paint was peeling slightly in the corners and more so on the frames. 

To Roger this looked a distinctly Freddie place, it was run down, a little disturbing at first but would instantly become alive the moment they put something into it. 

 

Inside there were two slightly angered men, two familiar looking women and one queen jamming on the mildly out of tune piano that had been wheeled in that morning.

 

The band would love to say that they were angry at Roger and had done just fine for the first hour without any of him input but that would be a terrible lie. In fact Brian found himself again succumbing to that awful repressed feeling that he really wished Roger was here right now.

 

“Whose girls are those then?” Roger asked once they were facing away from the two sat nattering at the side of the room, pointing backwards with a slightly confused look knowing that they couldn’t possibly both be here for brian… could they? “Mary’s here for Freddie, he invited her down,” Brian answered, not overlooking the way Roger changed his posture once he realised she was there as a friend and not a loyal companion, “And it seems like Deaky has been getting friendly with Veronica, very friendly.” Brian’s smiled as the atmosphere went instantly from that of a teenage boys bedroom to an odd mix of confusion and pride. 

 

“How on earth did that bastard manage that without any of us finding out?”   
“Wouldn’t you like to know!” He called back over his shoulder

“Yes actually I would. But bugger that I’m already late, you’re telling me later!” Roger shouted as he made his way to where Brian had diligently set out his drum kit on the makeshift wooden stage. 

 

Freddie watched as they all picked up their instruments and stood awkwardly where they probably thought they should be stood, there was a lot of untangling of wires and shuffling of feet but by the time they were stood still and proud he could feel himself starting to smile. They really did look like a real band.

 

“Well what are we doing then, Fred?” Brian asked, breaking the spell and pulling Freddie back into the real world of crappy rented halls and away from flashing stage lights. “Well you're all musicians, are you telling me you haven't got any ideas?” he asked back, silencing Brian and earning a stifled giggle from John who other than that was clearly overjoyed to be back on his bass. 

 

They stood in silence, each looking to the other knowing they all had exactly too many ideas and none of them wanting to share. “Fine well if you won't tell him!” Roger whispered angrily to Brian and turning to Freddie and Deaky, “me and Bri started writing this song last year but couldn't find anyone to do bass or sing better than us so we dropped it.” 

Freddie lit up and leant on his hands to cover his grin, “perfect!”

“It's a bit complicated but I'll try and talk two through it while Brian pisses about working out the scale for the solo.” 

 

Brian was already too into his quick music theory to pay attention to Rogers poke at him and already Roger was halfway into a very detailed explanation that Freddie was trying very hard to focus on. 

“Wait Roger slow down, do you need bass to come in during the first section?” Deaky asked, scribbling down notes as fast as he could manage and testing to see what it all sounded like. “No the bass has its own introductory riff during Brian's chord sequence, okay?” He nodded and went straight back to writing and working out what on earth he could do. 

 

To Freddie it all sounded wonderfully complicated and excruciatingly beautiful, he had managed to pay very little attention to Rogers musical explanation even though he tried his best. When Roger finished he looked at Freddie for confirmation he knew what was going to happen when they all started playing but Freddie just nodded and with far too much flair responded “just give me the lyrics and I'll fucking sing it dear!”

 

Once Roger was back and his drum set, Brian was ready and Deaky had managed to confirm the timings enough to improvise if he needed to, he counted them in.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four.

 

It started. Well, Brian started, then the bass with a small jump that Deaky improvised but sent shivers down Rogers spine and a grin onto his face. Freddie came in a little unsure but found his feet and found the lyrics coming from somewhere else entirely. Then when it was finally Roger's turn it slid into place with a click.

 

Yes they may have had no idea what to do, missed the odd beat and been occasionally out of tune but it fitted together so well it couldn't have sounded bad if they had tried. 

 

In fact Freddie didn't even need his secret book of songs because they played this one until their fingers bled and the girls at the back stopped having the enthusiasm to cheer. They kept going and going until it felt like they knew it, it felt like in the space of an hour or three it had become not a Roger and Brian scrap but it belonged to all four of them together. 

 

When they finally finished there was limp but enthusiastic applause from Mary and Veronica; “I think we might be half decent you know?” Roger quipped. Brian gave him the same look of friendship and joy that he always did when he was pretending to be angry at him, “Decent? Are you deaf? We're amazing!” He laughed a breathy laugh and settled down his precious guitar. 

Deaky had one last addition to make, “Fucking amazing.”

 

As they left with instruments on their backs John waved his goodbyes and headed off with Veronica in hand which still completely blew the others minds since they had only found out that morning. “He looks happy, doesn't he?” Brian posed as they stood and looked on at him walking away and blushing furiously. Mary too smiled after her friend as she walked away, she had known about it for weeks but thought it was more entertaining to see how long it would take Freddie to work it out. 

“Well he looks happier than us at any rate” Roger sighed

Brian nodded wistfully while freddie chose not to think about it, “and she's already seen him drunk so there's nothing that could go wrong.”

  
  


“So Mary, do you think she's good enough for our pal?”

“Oh absolutely, she's thrilled, she says he's the kindest man she's ever met and he shags like a rabbit.”

  
  


Deaky's sudden experiments with love had left Freddie a little lost that day. Now he was approaching everything he had ever dreamed of and it was becoming increasingly apparent he wanted more. He wanted just one thing, one thing he knew he would wait a whole lifetime for if he had to.

 

That night he decided to slip out of the celebratory drinks Brian and Roger were having and drink in the night air. Unfortunately it was a walk that always ended in him finding his way back to some bar that welcomed his frustrated libido.

 

He stayed, sloping right into what he was used to.

  
  


Freddie felt like he might have been having a good time, he usually was. So much so he was a bit thrown off by how this night was starting to feel less ‘fun’ and more as though he was desperate, something he didn’t very much like feeling. 

 

Before when he went out he hadn’t been looking for something serious, he wasn’t under an sort of impression that most of the men he danced with, drank with and shagged were any good for any more than that. He liked it like that for the most part and that meant that most nights he was out he was able to have a very good sense that he was having fun, what with the dancing, drinking and shagging that seemed to go on. 

 

But tonight the music felt very loud and the men felt a little too impersonal; it wasn’t just the lack of his friends there to cheer him on, no, it was back to that first night in London all over again. 

 

Freddie sat on a stool at the bar, always a difficult place to sit when it was crowded, and ordered a pint to start the night off. The good thing about the bar stool was that it meant he was under no obligation to get up and dance, but most importantly if he hadn’t been there he might just have missed everything that followed after that first sip of beer.

 

“Oh, sorry,” muttered a slightly disgruntled voice as he felt a gentle shove into his side, but more importantly than that the voice was beautiful. It struck Freddie instantly almost as the music had done earlier that day with the sing song irish tones and the depth that not only pulled on his heart strings but his other, more personal set of strings too. It was one of those sounds that makes you so desperate to hear it again you would do almost anything, it makes you completely forget the slight spill on the bar from where he knocked you and focus only on hearing it again and for as long as possible. 

 

Freddie allowed himself barely a second for shock and wonder before his eyes raised to the crowded bar in front of him and searched for whatever creature, myth or man, could throw him off his balance so strongly. 

 

And who stood before him must me a myth because he was too perfect to be real.

 

“Excuse me!” Freddie blurted out lacking his usual cool and calculated exterior and turning directly to the man's face. He had one chance not to ruin this (not that he ever did) and his sudden behaviour reflected this complete urgency.

He felt his hand on his arm and swallowed knowing he had to say something now or he would slip away. “Let me buy you a drink.” he said, this time with a growing air of utter self confidence, even though inside he was dreaming of how soft this guys moustache looked. How sweet he sounded, how comfortable he would be to lay on, how-

 

Freddie was so busy daydreaming he almost missed the reply but something about his voice pulled him right out of it

 

“Why should I?” 

 

“I'm sorry?”

 

With just a small smirk he repeated, “I said why should I let you buy me a drink?” and gazed questioningly at the masked shock on Freddie's face. 

Yes, he was surprised but all of a sudden those passing daydreams seemed less dreamy and more immediately  necessary.

Obviously Freddie knew that he should let him but him a drink because he was a passionate romantic and a good shag but was that too on the nose even for him?

 

“Because you're destined to, you just don't know it yet,” he purred smoothly into the others ear and fully regaining his confidence with shocking speed. He had to admit that was bloody good.

 

The stranger chucked back his drink, to prep him for what appeared to be a back and forth game of wit. Most unwelcome guests didn't  get past his first attempt and so he figured this one must be special. And he had to admit that was impressive, but he wasn't going to be beaten by some ponse in velour. “Don't you want to know my name first?”

 

“Okay, I'm Freddie Mercury,”

“I didn't say I was going to tell you.”

 

Freddie just blinked once, then twice.

 

The lights rolled over the man in front of his view and with every sentence of this game he fell deeper and deeper into this very new hole he had made himself. Who was this man to come suddenly and irreparably into his life with no warning and bowl him over harder than anyone had done before. His voice peeled out of his mouth and his skin glistened with sweat and light dancing on his chest hair. It was unreal.

It was only thirty seconds of conversation.

 

Their eyes caught for a split second and he even imagined he may have seen something similar in a glint he caught for just a second. Shamefully the other retracted his gaze and then looked back up with a more softened look on his already soft face.

“I'm Jim Hutton, nice to meet you Freddie Mercury, I'm afraid I still can't take that drink though.”

 

Jim. 

That name would never leave Freddie's head if he could help it.

 

“Why not? Oh please don't tell me you have a boyfriend that would be too boring,” he sighed, knowing that a boyfriend would be no obstacle when it came to Jim falling for him somehow (or at the very least hoping).

But Jim looked at him with a sudden honesty about his face and a look of desperation that felt familiar right down to the core, “Because, Freddie, you look like a chancer and I'm holding out for someone who knows that they want me.” 

 

Jim looked on as Freddie smiled sadly at the idea he could be just a 'chancer’, his smile was beautiful. However he was sure there were many other opportunistic men with wit and a beautiful smile who would come and offer him free drinks, Freddie Mercury didn't have to be any different he thought as he began to move away from the bar. The silence had been left for one second too long.

 

“We will have that drink!” Freddie called when Jim had almost been swallowed by the pulsing crowd. The light just about caught him turning around to look, if it weren't for the look on Jim's face Freddie would have gone home and given up hope on ever finding love in anyone, but something told him he agreed. 

 

He smiled.

He smiled widely and without even thinking of covering his mouth.

Jim would come back one day and Freddie would find him, he would find him and he would be able to tell him that without a shadow of a doubt he absolutely took his breath away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it has begun! Hopefully the next chapter will span over a longer period of time and will be updated within a week or so rather than a month (whoops)   
> Keep leaving your lovely comments!
> 
> Additional note: I may go through this whole work and do a bit of editing so I'm sorry if you end up missing something, it won't be important but will just make me feel more secure in my writing


	6. Now it's a beautiful day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit carried away thinking about Marc Bolan whilst writing this so if you feel like having a soundtrack go for electric warrior, the album by T.rex (which mentioned so it will fit regardless!) Enjoy!

Freddie couldn't get Jim out of his head, no matter what he did he seemed to be a permanent fixture.

There was always something that dragged his mind back to the mere seconds they spent together which now felt like a lifetime.

 

He had mentally arranged their wedding, then  un-arranged it, then they had eloped, adopted five cats and bought a house in the Swiss Alps.

Or maybe he had never seen him again until one fateful night he turns up to a concert for their now world famous band and confesses his love.

 

There were endless possibilities for unfounded lovestruck daydreaming laid out before him.

All of it was Jim.

One man who he may very well never see or hear from again.

He had, of course, considered the possibility that he could continue to enjoy himself and have huge amounts of mind bending sex.

 

Aided by larger amounts of mind altering drugs

 

However the thought of Jim seemed so much more appealing; this did not mean he was ruling out those numerous other men, he didn't even know anything about this one. 

But oh how sweet a thought it was to be one step closer to someone or something who he could maybe love with all his might and fury.

 

He was not in love, that he was sure of.

 

He was not in love yet.

 

This morning he was due an early shift in his prolific position in the world of antiques dealing. He was starting to feel antique, stuck in a room with a man withering away into nothingness (and paying him only above minimum wage). 

God the surroundings were nice enough but he was sure he could make more of it, spring some life back into everything he touched. 

Maybe Jim Hutton could spring some life back into him-

 

No. This was utterly ridiculous. 

 

Was he a hopeless romantic? Yes. 

But, was he waiting around for some man who he may never truly see again? It seemed like he may be…

Although, was he really interested in anything more than something casual and thrilling? Oh god he knew how thrilling it could be with someone who loved you.

 

This was completely and utterly ridiculous… and completely and totally futile from every angle. If he never met him again he may swear himself to a life of mourning and pitiful blowjobs until he died.

 

There was always someone English, lacking a moustache and far too skinny to please him if he wanted. 

 

The day was passing like thick sludge now he had gotten stuck on this roundabout. Every second seemed three and every minute at least four. This circle of self pity had to end this very moment; he was surrounded by the biggest potential every day and he was instead sitting and letting himself waste into the walls. There was fun to be had, clothes to be designed and music to be made every lengthening second of this day.

 

Sitting behind the counter was perhaps his biggest joy of them all, not only did it do the fantastic job of distracting him from a certain unnamed god of a man, but he had so much to do. Behind the counter was where the old notebooks and diaries were kept from people's great grandmothers, soldiers, kings or paupers with fantastic handwriting. Each one reminded them in its own way of his own tatty stream of consciousness left hidden on his desk for the right moment.

 

He picked up the most interesting one by a one Fanny Blackworm (only partially picked for the name that sounded like some awful fungal infection). She had written all those years ago: I find myself desperate for a love of my own, I would give up all my life for just one kiss, one love to show I am not alone in this world.

 

The same old story, 100 years later and the same old dramatic bitch reading it.

 

He put down Miss Blackworm and moved through tens of different prose trying to get a sense of the people behind them but it was no use, they were all romantics. And naturally every time there was romance, there was Jim.

 

Meanwhile, back in the apartment there was an overwhelming air of stress and a stale scent. The table had been dragged from the corner of the main room and right into the centre, books and manuscripts and broken pens and study manuals and whatever else your mind could conjure up made the room almost unrecognisable. It was a rubbish dump of practically useless knowledge; this was the number one sign of a study season.

 

And buried somewhere in the deep and fearsome deaths of this papery landfill, two curled and backcombed heads were protruding (one significantly lower, and more peroxide blond, than the other).

 

It was impossible to tell if they were writing, reading or sleeping since the noises of silence and scribbling had taken over the room to such a tone that it took up all of the space in the building. Besides the noise (or lack thereof), the most notable thing was the overwhelming feeling of intense pressure, if someone were to breathe too loudly then the whole room would pop and some horrific tension would explode.

 

Slowly, very slowly, almost as slow as an ancient creature waking from a thousand year slumber, Roger reared his ugly head (even though he was not one bit ugly in the slightest). 

 

He lifted it high, still leaving Brian undisturbed, then higher, then leaning do far back it seemed his neck might snap and splinter into a million little pieces. Just one twitch of the nose and-

 

ACHOO

 

Paper everywhere, Brian completely shocked into another world and Roger god damn so thankful he could finally breathe with all the stagnating dust out of his area.

 

“Roger!”

 

“What? It was a sneeze! Or am I not allowed to sneeze now!”

 

Brian humphed dramatically, making extra effort to make sure Roger could see him angrily writing, “no, you're not actually.”

 

Roger didn't have the energy to argue; he had so much to do, so much to read and so little time to do it in… maybe he was the one that was going to absolutely explode.

 

After a few more painstaking minutes…

The slow, tick-tock-tick-tocking of the clock…

The painful hand cramps and bleeding hearts…

Roger spoke again:

 

“Brian, I have a feeling we're completely buggered you know?”

 

The limp ball of curls and stress next to him swallowed hard, trying not to look at his physics book for fear he would burst into tears, “Don't say that, we enjoy this, we know what we're doing, it shouldn't be stressful at all.” he assured himself more so than Roger, they were smart enough but neither seemed to be coping particularly well with the pressure (judging by the water welling in Brian's eyes and the shattered glass on the floor of the kitchen left by dear Roger).

“I would believe you but I think you're going to crush my arm if you squeeze any tighter.” 

Brian let go as though he had been burned and let his head fall onto the page with a sigh. It was all so interesting, really it was; whatever happened in the exam at least it was bloody well interesting.

 

There couldn't be any room left in his head for more numbers or chapters or equations.

 

There it was, he thought, everything he had tried to do in his life would just crumble around him, he was an arse, his education would fail and everything was utterly utterly pointless. Maybe everything he had ever tried was for nothing! That was it wasn't it, he couldn't read another bloody word and so his whole life was absolutely pointless.

 

His swirling mindstate was accompanied by a few gentle  _ thuds _ as his head repeatedly smacked into the table with blunt force. 

“Brian?”

 

“Brian!”

 

Shoulders wrenched up into an upright position, water flicked in his face and a surprisingly hard backhand to the face that didn't match the visible strength of the blond. 

“Brian? Are you with me?”

 

His head moved sluggishly up…. And down and then up… and, with a heavy weight, down.

 

“Stop spiraling you idiot. It doesn't matter, we'll take a break or something.”

 

“We are, we're absolutely buggered.”

 

Roger seemed to have given up when he got to the third chapter just covering microorganisms, deciding he had better take his chances as a street roaming rent boy instead. Swinging his legs (covered in patterned leather, of course) onto the table and leaning back somewhat nonchalantly, he nudged Brian into life. 

 

“Maybe we are, but it's no use writing a good thesis if you've died before anyone can bloody read it.”

 

At least that was true, it didn't help though, not one bit. 

If he didn't look at the room, or his book, or his scribbled notes or anything really then he might be fine- 

“Fuck it all Roger!”

This, of course, caught the blond's attention.

“I know all about the stars, I could name you every bloody constellation if you wanted! I'm… I'm going to get completely pissed.”

 

“Now you're talking my language, Bri!” Roger clapped with glee, glad to finally stop reciting the chapter on microcellular whatsits in his head and have something else to be preoccupied with.

 

A complete toss up to set the town ablaze, there would be nothing that could stop them! 

… except the fact they only appeared to have three bottles of beer and one unopened bottle of ‘cointreau’, whatever that was. 

Well it seemed like a good enough place to start.

 

“Would sir prefer his liquor from a chipped wine glass-” Roger posed in a faux french accent, somehow both mocking and delighting Brian in ways that couldn't quite be discovered, “or the smallest saucepan in the house.”

He bowed graciously as Brian launched part of Freddie's beloved upholstery in his direction.

 

“Do any of you ever wash up?!”

 

“Brian don't be so dense, no, I smashed the only remaining glass after you asked me what reality was made of three times in a row and this is your penance.”

 

He was sure he heard Brian mutter something involving string under his breath but chose to ignore it in favour for choosing to give Brian the wine glass.

 

You see, that was very much the nature of their relationship, it was one of bickering and fast quips and Scrabble tiles hidden between sofa cushion. But they seemed to have one unwritten, unspoken rule of trust and care between them. Brian may not tell Roger everything in years to come, Roger may not approve of them; Roger probably would drift from Brian or decide that the guitarist needed to sort out what he wanted and who he needed. But always, no matter how little or how long it took, Roger wouldn't leave Brian drinking from the saucepan.

 

After they started to drink, the next thing on the list of 'things to do to annoy flatmates and forget exams’ was music, lots of loud music. 

With electric warrior by T.rex only just being agreed on they were set.

 

Brian had a way of dancing that captured Rogers attention instinctively, his body seemed to run one way and then strut forwards with such direct motion that you are dragged with him.

 

He was the sum of his fitted red t-shirt and slender flared legs which took up a disproportionate amount of the room. So slender he could slip away into time.

 

Brian wasn't a dancer in any capacity, but alone, more than a little tipsy with just the one person he trusted with his life… maybe? 

 

When he closed his eyes it felt as though he could feel the music in every cell in his body-

 

The guitar was pulling on his heartstrings from heaven and the gentle tones and scratches of Bolan's voice as he danced around the notes yanked him side to side.

 

The flow of it through him passed like a cold drink of water on a warm day.

 

Music is an encapsulating force-

Music transported him to a new place in his mind with instrumentals and individuals and movement in the very sense of the word; so before he could register it, Roger was moving with him too.

 

The two formed a contrast of beautiful proportions in a twitching mass of hair and the purest kind of feeling. Roger had decanted the beer into the bottle with the rest of what had turned out to be a kind of orange vodka and took deep, throaty swigs from it as he felt out the best with his feet.

 

As one unit they took different aspects of the music into their own and allowed them into their space, their beings. They waved and tapped out a spectacle of movement that was no more than a squiffy attempt at rhythm. For a minute time seemed forever,

 

Eyes seemed unable to open,

 

Limbs felt light and free unlike any other moment in history. 

 

It was a small moment and a rare one at that but Brian felt his body flow to Hot love and he was sure Roger felt it too.

 

After that Brian was not sure he ever felt truly free again, not to the extent he had felt like he was flying… like they were flying.

 

A key twisted in the locks and the door was shuffled open with the awkward bum first manoeuvre that it was impossible to avoid with that corridor. The unmistakable butt of one John Deacon made its way towards them.

 

Roger had sprung back into life and was leaning against the back of the sofa with his drink in one hand and and elbow perched precariously. Brian however seemed to be less interested in everything around him in an odd state of limbo drunkenness that lead to him rushing up and giving John, a man he was not as close with as maybe he should have been, the biggest swooping hug. Even more unusual given that Brian's preferred form of physical contact was usually limited to an arm snaking round to a pat on the lower back if you were lucky. This drunk, hopeful and hopeless music Brian was intriguing at least. 

 

“Sorry for him Deaky, he's halfway through a breakdown,” which would have sounded more convincing had Roger not hiccuped to go along with his flowery hand gestures. “Oh don't be an arse Roger, where've you been up to John?”

 

“He means where have you been, which were both wondering actually.”

 

“Yes I know what I mean thank you drummer,”

 

“I've just been out to see Veronica, I think it's going well all things considered!” He smiled coyly, not giving away too much information as was typical but still giving up a bit of himself, more each time. “Of course they're going well Deaky you're a total ladykiller!” 

 

John rolled his eyes as he squeezed past Roger, carrying two shopping bags and making sure to step cleanly over the glass on the floor of the kitchen. There was an intermission, a crack and hiss from the kitchen along with a scratch as Brian turned over the record. 

 

Then the world came back to life as John returned with beers in hand, one thrown to Brian and caught with ease whilst the second was traded in for Rogers “Roger special” cocktail in a cointreau bottle. 

 

The three in unison collapsed onto sofa and dislodged sofa cushions alike, slowly reaching a toned down and mellow phase in the night. 

 

“I want to both to know that I really do care about you, even if I am an arse sometimes or a- no shut up Roger I mean it, sometimes I don't show you what i- ow… I don't get to say what I mean but you really do mean so much to me and my- stop it! Me and my p….ompus brain, I really do mean it, i- are those peanuts?!” 

 

Brian's monologuing was finally broken by a fourth well aimed peanut from Deaky landing perfectly inside a curl and nestling into his head. The glare he gave seemed to completely defeat the point of his carefully constructed speech but it didn't seem to matter to Deaky who was badly disguising his bubbling giggles and Rogers harsh chuckling to back him up. 

“Sorry it's not funny!” He apologized… still laughing. 

*I'm trying to tell you that I appreciate you guys… I don't always show it well… I know that, but- it might be because you're both such idiots!”

 

It was just too tempting, he couldn't resist!

  
  


The final, missing piece of the puzzle was about to burst through the door with even more ideas of emotional togetherness than the other three had managed to successfully chase off. When he waltzed in (with only one new scrap to add to their 'clothing’ collection), the room was buzzing ever so slightly with drunken chatter and another one of Deaky's soft giggles to dance in the air.

 

You could bet on Freddie to be ready for the party already and so inexplicably already be just as drunk (and hopefully only drunk) when he entered. Just the right amount so they couldn't be angry, or frustrated at his clearly worsening behaviour.

 

It was okay though, it was all alright because he had an idea to add to the pile of ideas that were eventually going to make everything alright and especially okay.

 

“Ladies! I have something I would like to share!”

 

“Whatever it is Fred I'm sure Rogers already caught it.”

 

Brian grunted as he was smacked on the side of the head by a small manicured hand.

 

“Oh shut up and listen will you! Stay right there, all of you-”

 

And then he was gone completely and swallowed by the walls for a second before he plunged back with the same energy and a sparkling red blazer to match. “I need you, I need you all to make this something with me.”

 

The notebook fell heavily through the thickness of the room and clearly opened a new line of interest. Eyes were caught instantly on it's oddly shaped thickness and rainbow of aged pages with mysterious stains and crumples. His own special antique.

 

“its? A book?”

“Yes Roger you twat it's a book, it's…  _ my  _ book, it's full of all of the things I made and now we can make them something else!”

Roger was about to talk back again but before he had the chance Brian had started to read one of the pages that made mildly more sense than the others. His eyes widened in interest,he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol blurring his eyesight or the words themselves but something about it seemed so intensely magical and personal just from the few things he could make out. “Fred… these are beautiful. We can't do these … we can't- we can't take these from you I- you make them, we'll play them but you make them.”

 

“We're a band Brian, I need your ideas, your push back.”

 

“This one.” John announced, flicking through pages and jamming his finger right onto a page titled “Liar” in big scrawling handwriting. Freddie pounced on the sofa edge over his shoulder to look, glaring at Roger when he saw the mixed drink bottle settled in the crook of Deaky's arm. But he was right nevertheless, this idea felt very them, whatever they were.

 

The idea of making songs, making albums, dare they think making tours, had never properly hit them before now, the idea that they could take something like this and make it…Well, anything?

 

In a drunken ecstasy they had begun smashing out tunes and riffs, noting down things on random pieces of paper they could find. Some, like John, sitting in perfect slightly hazy silence as they created and others yelling the house down to what would surely be a noise complaint.

 

At one AM there was a lazy haze over the room with the left over buzz floating around the ceiling and seeping into the cracks of student housing. Roger lay head first on Brian's arse, Freddie spread eagled with Rogers arm over his and John curled up neatly in the armchair. 

In this drowze everything was calming and promising.

 

Their inevitable problems had managed to remain hidden and unpromising for another day, another hour. It was one more seemingly relaxed and hopeful night before an inevitable outpour of everything they had left unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are kicking my arse right now so updates are lightly to be few for a bit longer I'm sorry ladios... But I promise we are actually getting somewhere now!


	7. Funny how love is

No one wanted to wake up the next morning, all they wanted to do was close their eyes and pretend the world didn't exist. Or maybe live in a house made of sunglasses and cotton wool, anything to make it quiet and dim.

 

“Oh fuck me.” Roger groaned as the creak of the sofa deafened them all immeasurably.

 

Both Freddie and Brian had the smallest of urges to chip in with a joke at the double entendre but neither had the mental strength to do anything but lie where they were and never move again.

 

There was another groan as Roger rolled to get up and crushes Freddie's arm-

Then another a Brian heard Freddie and decided all this movement was far too much for him.

 

Just next to the pulsating pile of messy bodies, on his own small armchair island was a very contently sleeping John deacon; his head flopped to the side and his hair draping over the empty bottle clutched in his hand. It was almost sweet, if it hasn't been for the fact he had drank nearly that whole bottle to himself and would probably sleep through an apocalyptic annihilation at this moment in time.

 

Now armed with his sunglasses Roger stretches himself out with a satisfying click and draped a nearby blanket over their sleeping friend. The silence in the room hung like a haze and buzzed as the other two tried to awaken slowly.

 

The background flurry of water from the tap echoed and bounced of the aching walls. Calling them all to silently pursue water from the kitchen, mostly supported by the kitchen counter and begging they would survive the rest of the day. Which luckily they would.

 

“Don't ever let me do that again.” Roger moaned and groaned attempting to avoid letting his hand slip into his matted hair. 

“You know I can't stop you,” smiled Brian weakly, “wouldn't dream of it dear!”

Their voices were all husky and weak but just about at the right level that they could look past the pain of it all.

 

The comradery between them was a strong symbol of their friendship, the simple fact that for the first part of the hangover recovery (the coffee and tea, the quiet and the dimming of lights), they were happily in it together. For the first time in a while, and sadly last time for another while, they were together, in something without an agenda and simply with the joy and wit of their minds (or their splitting headaches).

 

They sat quietly in the living room, Roger in sunglasses and all of them slumped rather uncomfortably, with the occasional slurp of coffee.

 

The silence was comfortable, the silence was golden.

  
  


“Oh bugger!” interrupted Deaky rather loudly and very suddenly, making them all wince just a little. Wincing into a smile Freddie turned to him, “yes dear?”

“Well I forgot last night with all the drinking and music-”

 

“Certainly a lot of drinking and music,” muttered Brian to Roger, giving a side look at Deaky who had managed to dance and sing more than Brian had ever thought possible for the usually quite reserved flatmate.

 

“I forgot that I booked us a gig,”

 

A gig?

A music gig?

 

There was a stunned silence, or maybe it was excited, or both or maybe neither, but it was daunting nonetheless. “And it's in a week,”

 

The silence became far more pressing.

 

“I just thought we may as well make some money from it, I don't expect us to get fame or fortune from it-”

 

“What do you mean no fame! Darling we're brilliant, we're absolutely fucking superb! This gig is going to be the start of something gigantic!” Freddie grinned with all the confidence of someone who already believed himself to be a star. It was true, he was distinctly under the impression that whether the world knew it or not he was a superstar of cosmic proportions.

 

“That's all well and good Fred but we don't actually have anything to play, we've done one song,” Brian interjected with the same sense of nervousness he had had in him before Freddie could even get them to agree to the bloody band.

 

“Yes we do, we made some last night!”

“No, we looked at your songs, some of us have ideas too you know!”

 

Freddie grinned and placed his hands on his hips, looking directly into the eyes of the frustrated poodle man before him (who really did look very silly when he was stressed), “well if you've all got ideas darling them what's the problem?”

 

Behind them Roger and John had caught eyes and were trying not to laugh at the bewildered look on Brian's face as he stuttered out fragments of sentences like “we haven't got enough time” or “it's nothing really”. He knew that they would be able to do it stood on their heads if they tried, and he also knew that he couldn't argue because if John had booked it it must be a safe bet.

 

In five seconds that was Brian beat. He sighed, turning back to John who was still eyeing Roger with a grin that had been missing a minute earlier, “when can we rehearse?”

 

So now whether they liked it or not, filled with water and coffee, three hours later they headed to their rehearsal space with Freddie's notebook in tow. 

 

This time they hit something, without realising it they did.

Even with the little practice they had together, when the music played it blended beautifully and danced upon their ears. 

Other notebooks and sheets of scrap paper were filled with notes and songs and tabs for everyone's use, but the messiness didn't matter. 

To them it wasn't messy, to them it was simply beautiful,

It was Queen.

  
  


But if course at some point it had to be over, the normal times had to resume and their heads had to be pulled out of that glorious musical arse of queen.

 

That day, in all of their lectures their minds were completely misplaced, even Brian who would usually be unable to drag himself away.

The sounds ringing from their speakers, the notes dancing from their vocals well it was almost enough to make them believe they were good.

 

Freddie doodled away in his class, unified with the other three I'm his mindset and willing to create something for it. 

This gig they were doing, it was soon, they had the music and they had the talent but did they have the image? 

 

Of course the clothes had been sorted out thanks to yours truly but what about something else ... what about art? 

He sniffed at the sketch he had created, feeling as though it was almost there and stuffing it into his bag.

One thing though, that had not crossed his mind all day for the first time in as long as he could remember, was love.

 

Men and love and a want to be cared for unconditionally hadn't even attempted to crawl back into his mind. Even Jim was only nestled in a corner as opposed to overwhelming him with the things he felt. 

So when the four met back up that evening, not once did going out occur to him, only, maybe he thought he turned a little too much at any Irish accent he heard.

 

“Roger! I need you!” Came Freddie's shrill tones from the kitchen, carrying to Roger who had at that point just managed to settle into a book which had nothing to do with biology or music (contrasted by his fingers tapping away at a beat without his permission). 

He didn't get up at first, looking around and hoping that whatever ridiculously simple or impossibly difficult task Freddie had got himself into would slip his mind when Roger didn't reply. 

 

Of course that was not to be the case and soon after he heard a second shrill cry echoing through the house of “Roger I'll pay you, you bastard,” and a stifled laugh from Deaky's room nextdoor. Who was Roger to say no to friendship and an offer of money (that they both knew he would not follow through).

 

As he placed down his copy of 1984 and made his way through to the living room he began to hear the obscene noises of distress from the kitchen. There was a slosh of water, then the clang of a saucepan and then what sounded like some sort of… crack?

 

“Freddie what on earth are you-”

 

Ah.

He was cut short by the image of his friend in a silk bedrobe and mismatched slippers, hair brushed back and puffing out incessantly (as all their hair seemed to do during stressful moments) and a broken egg in hand. He turned his head like a deer in the headlights, “don't tell Brian, I'll never hear the end of it.”

 

“What are you doing?” Asked Roger, wondering simultaneously if it was wise to ask or just walk back out and forget it all, not before telling Brian of course. “Well I rather fancied a boiled egg and it doesn't seem that hard to make so I thought I'd give it a go and-” 

He gestured widely at the semi chaos that littered the counter top, “I have no bloody idea what I'm doing.”

 

Roger stifled a laugh before turning to Freddie with the most serious look he could manage, “it can't be that difficult Fred, the instructions are in the name, you  _ boil  _ the  _ egg _ !”

 

“Well you do it then.”

 

Shit. Thought Roger. 

This might be his worst moment yet, but he would be damned if he didn't try.

 

And as it turns out, boiling water really is boiling, and actually does hurt quite a bit.

 

Brian and Deaky were far from impressed, but whilst John in all his immaturity managed to allow Roger to seduce him in the funny side of things, Brian felt less so.

If anything Brian felt like he could just kill them all right there and have no issue using their corpses as furniture.

It was  _ his _ kitchen!

His bloody kitchen!

 

There was no point in asking how egg and water got into the places it did, it was too late to bother trying to recompense with the answer. 

 

“Well I think we gave it a pretty good go!” Freddie chanced, 

Brian was ashen faced.

 

“Go out and get some more eggs you absolute idiot!” 

He ordered through a small burst of amazed laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, as Freddie stuck his tongue out aggressively at Roger. “I can't, I'm not decent!” 

But one glare from Brian (who later earned a huge grin from Roger) sent him out of the door, money in hand and t-shirt and shorts just making him decent enough for public consumption.

Not the he was one for shying away from a crowd.

 

Luckily for him the nearest corner shop was only over the road from the exit of their building.

The cold air and light wind hit his bare legs painfully and threatened to whip up his remaining clothes and make a real spectacle out of him. Putting his middle finger up aggressively towards where he knew Brian would be looking out of the window at him, he crossed the road, tightening his arms around himself and hoping his hair didn't look too awful.

 

Although it never did.

 

The ding if the shop door and the rush of warm air was welcoming, enveloping him inside and closing behind him. The eggs were easy to find, the money was in his hand and with any luck he could just get them and be done with it on muscle memory alone.

 

He had thought he was alone in the shop, as you would expect for the time of night, but as he heard a slight rustle behind him he didn't have the energy to look. Whoever it was could bloody we'll leave him alone, they could just-

 

“Well if it isn't Freddie Mercury,”

 

The voice rippled through the air and sent chills do familiarity down Freddie's spine, the Irish times hit a pang within his chest and he was surprised his whole body didn't convulse. 

“And who might you… be.” he whispered the last part, trying to keep his cool exterior but faltering at the look of the absolute dream now stood in front of him. 

 

His patterned dad jumper was just a little too tight and left a small sliver of his hair laden stomach exposed whenever he moved. His stubble was in the state just before needing a trim and looked rugged and completely adorable.

 

It was as though all of his Christmases (where every year he wished for a bear with a moustache) had come at once.

 

Jim didn't fail to see Freddie looking him up and down and he rolled his eyes, though, Freddie noticed, he did nothing to cover up the exposed skin. 

 

“Didn't think I'd see you here,” 

Freddie felt his heart try and leap out of his mouth yet again, here he was dressed like a very confused male prostitute and Jim Hutton was right in front of him, speaking like that. Again he attempted with mild success to collect his wits; he had to admit that being caught looking this scandalous did help his charm almost flow naturally, if anything he was in his element (showing off a large amount of upper thigh).

 

He purred back at him the question he had been burning to know ever since he first set eyes on him,  “Does this mean you live in the area?”

 

Jim didn't miss the apprehension hidden behind Freddie's smooth tone and laughed lightly thinking of what must be going on inside the mind of such a man. He did, in fact, live a few streets down and was only very slightly secretly hoping that Freddie would realise his lies.

“Not a chance, I'm visiting friends.”

 

Jim thrust his milk on the counter loudly, attempting to call the attention of the teenaged cashier.

 

“You remembered my name then?”

 

“Well you were a little difficult to forget”

 

He had to look away as Freddie laughed, so far his charm had been escaped but his looks and flowing hair which waved behind his open smile were the honey, and Jim was just a poor starving fly.

“I get told that a lot darling,” he purred, Jim swallowed.

 

Collecting himself, he reapplied his scathing mask and turned to the ever stunning face before him; the cashier slowly roused and began punching things into the till.

 

“Unfortunately I'm only here for milk.”

 

Freddie jumped on the nearest opportunity, thrusting himself forwards and offering, “Let me get that for you!”

 

“With your one pound?” the other mused, glancing to the change it Freddie's hand,  “I don't think so Mr Mercury.”

 

It was an impressive shut down, Freddie's mind ticked over anything to say that could continue the back and forth flirting that he had come to expect even after their two briefest of meetings. But Jim could see no way for it to further, and to his surprise this fact saddened him. Whatever he had initially thought of the man (some overzealous, pompous prat maybe) he had come to already see the waves and pitfalls of him as a soul, and even, though he was ashamed to admit it, fall into the charm of the unbridled confidence and wit that was bestowed upon him.

The thought ticked over in his head that maybe- just maybe- the time had come to let loose a little more, to offer just a smidge to Freddie and allow him to uncover the rest. Just as he thought this, Freddie made a decision to ask a question he really was interested to know the answer to:

 

“Interesting. How big is your dick then?”

 

And Jim spluttered instantly, forgetting his cool and any thoughts he had previously entertained.

 

“I don't think that's… why would you want to know that?” he laughed awkwardly with a stutter, thrown off of his game completely and somehow more attractive than ever; it wasn't fair, he was making it too difficult for Freddie to even begin to imagine a life where Jim didn't reciprocate to his new line of questioning.

 

“Well this back and forth gets a bit tiring and sometimes you just fancy a shag.”

Straight to the point, accurate and very much where he was hoping the conversation would lead them. Who cares about Brian and his bloody eggs.

 

“Well you won't be getting one off me, now piss off.”

 

Jim hid his blush behind the ever important carton of milk.

The tension overwhelmed the room, and surprisingly for Jim it was a very thick and sexual tension. Really he was lying beyond belief, but no one was going to hear that fact, ever. He slammed his money down on the counter as the spotty faced teen coughed out the price awkwardly.

 

“No, I'm sorry that wasn't nice of me…” Freddie backed down quicker than he had ever anticipated but for some glorious reason the idea that Jim was displeased had completely overridden any flaming libido which controlled him. 

Jim stared at the counter, hoping to god that Freddie would leave after this, hoping that he would never hear another sexual word leave the man's delectable lips or feel another surge of intrigue run down his spine as a consequence. 

 

But Freddie, in all his finery, was still there, waiting as the second painstakingly ticked by and they were sure that the boy was just waiting to hear more of their tiff rather than even processing his change. And then Freddie smiled, knowing that if Jim was really so displeased he would have shouted at least once more by now (he had been in this situation a fair few times), and that in actuality it was far more likely that Jim was thinking of something else entirely.

 

Although that didn't stop his speech from coming out far more apologetic than he felt or intended.

“I still need to buy the eggs…”

 

Jim laughed, falling head first into the honey pot that was Freddie Mercury.

“Who do we have to thank for you getting eggs at five in the afternoon dressed only in a robe and some… very short shorts?”

 

He posed,

“Don't I just look delectable!”

 

He did.

“That's one way of putting it,”

 

He let the pause hang in the air until it was almost too unbearable to fill, until everyone felt as though they would explode, left until the very last moment, when he slowly questioned, his voice laden with seduction: 

“Do I interest you, Jim?”

 

Then a small turn up at the corner of a mouth,

“I think you do.”

 

What was left in the air was electricity, sparking from every angle and off both of them; you could feel it, you could see it if you believed hard enough. 

And they did.

God did both of them for just a second feel the crackle and hear echoes of future moans and I love yous in the mix.

  
  


Softly, Freddie cooed, “Will you ever let me buy you that drink?”

And Jim laughed heartily at a joke he didn't quite understand.

“I don't think so, do you?”

 

“I do, actually.”

 

The long awaited change from his milk slammed into his palm and Jim closed his hand around it, taking his time to leave. Walking towards the door with an unregistered softness, he turned around, much like last time, however now he had something to say. 

Something that meant they both knew this was far from over.

“See you around, Freddie.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, comments and kudos are always appreciated <3  
> The drama begins to hit its first peak next, the calm before the storm!


	8. How the days seem long

Brian refused to look up, he was in his element!   
The scratching of pen on paper filled the room in a perfectly tense and educational ambience.

Firstly his essay structure was flowing gorgeously, the equations were simple (to him anyway) and the amount of interest he could get through was bound to be clear to any professor. Words just flowing out of him as he pictured it all around him, like they couldn't all fit out onto the page, you blinked, missed them and they were gone.   
In fact he could feel the eyes of jealous students, pages behind him, or maybe they were only jealous to him, it was a strong possibility they just could not stand the continuous noise of pen on paper coming from him. It didn't matter though, he truly knew exactly what he was doing, after all, nothing makes sense more than something you are passionate about. He could just see himself staring into space for hours on end, the stars that would always have his back even in his lowest moments.  
Test conditions brought out the best in him, this plus his dissertation was guaranteed to ease his worries for at least today.  
In fact he almost forgot this was being tested at all.

Roger, sat in a different room writing about a completely different science, was not having such luck.  
He knew what to say, he had the words sat in his brain but they wouldn't go onto the paper. The things he had crammed were just there out of his reach, his logic and understanding being pushed back by thoughts of something else much bigger. However for some reason it didn't bother him, he knew he could pass even if he couldn't do the best he could but what was in his view now seemed so much sweeter.  
His studies didn't seem to matter all that much when he had everything he wanted right at his fingertips.

It's how his teachers had always described him, "a very bright child, but distracted".  
Settling for a gentle drum rhythm with his pen and a sub par essay, he left.

 

"Do you think cake is too much? They might not have done very well?" Deaky asked, weighing up the option of a decoratively piled chocolate cake or a more simple well done card, signed by both of course.  
"Well then they'll need food to comfort them, always go with cake!" Said Freddie with the most exited air he had had in a long time. Finally the stress would be over (since Deaky seemed to breeze through his studies without a second thought, and he only had to let his natural, god given talent shine), and they would be able to focus on music, together. Not to mention the fact that he could feel the weight being lifted off Brian's shoulders as he decorated the flat.

They had both agreed on the banner which so joyfully read "you did an exam" with a "you tried your best" note in the corner just in case.   
Even though neither was under any impression that either of their friends would fail.   
Sometimes they all found it hard to keep up with Rogers quick wit and Brian's star-crossed mind.

The flat was decked out like the birthday party of an 8 year old, the antique decor (antique here being code for old tat Freddie had found) standing out like a sore thumb against 50p Party shop bunting and tiny flower printed stickers that they had both become a little too excited with. 

They were waiting eagerly by the sofa for the others arrival, so much so that it was dark by the time it came and they had not complained once. 

As the door clicked Freddie grabbed John's hand in excitement and careered over to welcome them with his usual vigour.   
Brian grinned upon seeing a smiling John and leaping Freddie who instantly grabbed him and kissed his cheek.

He felt brilliant, like the weight that had been pushing him down was easing away but by bit. Here was Freddie, home and content and Deaky in his calmest mood, tranquil and bubbling from the inside out. This fragile second was worth any stresses that he had been through in the past weeks. He clutched it to his heart, all too aware of how quickly it might fly away.

"Well don't just stand there! How did you do?" He heard being barked into his face as he snapped out of his mind and back into the reality of the two beneath him waiting to hear about his results.  
God his bloody results!

"It went fine, well, very well actually," He grinned back with a shrug, always modest.  
Freddie could see no point in modesty and pulled him into a huge hug which Deaky bundled on top of, and lastly Roger from the other side of the door who had snuck in.

"Roger! How'd it go?" 

"Oh," he waved his arm offhandedly and moved in to admire the spread set out for them, "don't worry about that…Do I see cake?"  
His expert avoidance of the question didn't go unnoticed, John stepped up to the mantle, gently nudging his arm and smiling with the soft smile they all knew and loved. "What happened?"

"Well I did a bit shit really. I knew what to write but, well let's just say I won't be getting a 1st."   
He was expecting the usual 'I'm sorry's and 'I'm sure you it wasn't that bad' however to his surprise all three of them planned a coordinated attack and launched themselves on him until he felt like he was wearing an oversized jumper of people. The wind was knocked out of him but he really didn't mind because just the presence of his friends was so warm and comforting that a smile escaped his lips and he remembered the reason he had left the exam. 

Laughing, he eased them off, Freddie being the last to go as he laughed, clinging on for dear life until Roger could just about prise him away "Woah, okay." He grinned.  
"Drinks!" Brian jumped up and proclaimed his commandment like a massiah, this was his order. "Cake when we get back?" Asked Deaky, hopeful at the prospect of friendship, alcohol and cake all in one night. After a swift nod from Freddie they picked up whatever was closest and bounded out if the door that two of them had just entered. 

The usual pub was crowded with students having just finished some particularly difficult examinations, the roar of chatter streaming out of the door as they opened it. Instantly they recognised about three people but no one else, Tim from the local music scene, Chrissy, a girl off of Brian's course and a very eager man called David who Freddie had definitely had at least once. However that was enough to isolate themselves on their own table, Freddie in charge of cheering up Roger whilst Brian and John went to get drinks and, unsurprisingly, failed to return within minutes.  
As they sat, surrounded by the hubbub of nightlife, Freddie realised that this was the first time he had been out with any of his friends in weeks, if not months. Looking around, he recognised Deaky's drinking, Brian's lean frame against a bar, Rogers lackluster stare, but it had been long ago that he had last seen them. Had he not missed it? He wondered, laughing at a quip Roger had spouted and feeling that spark of joy in his chest. Did he not think of them when he was out? This cozy pub atmosphere, with the soft booths and chalk boards and low range chatter, was this worse than the clubs he was used to? 

He didn't have time to answer any of these questions himself because it soon became apparent that Roger was more off put by his performance today than he may have let on.

"Oh don't be so down, we were never expecting you to pass with flying colours were we?" Freddie bumped his elbow against Roger's shoulder before taking another swig from his pint and gazing over to Brian and John who appeared to be in some kind of drinking match.   
However he had completely failed no notice any insensitivity in what he had said.

Roger spat back, spitefully, "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean then, Freddie?" Surprising him so much that he almost spat his drink back, knowing full well it was down to Roger being in a mood, nothing to do with him, just twisting his words of course.

"Oh no, Roger, I didn't mean it like that, we've been working hard on our music, and I never thought science was a fit for you anyway."  
He tried and failed to cover up his faux-pas.

"So I'm not smart enough then? Only good as a part time drummer and fucking sales merchant?" Slurring his words slightly, Roger jumped off his bar stool and headed for Brian and John who were still having some kind of drink based game and completely oblivious to any tensions in the room.

"Well if you're going to act so bloody ridiculous then yes!" Freddie called after him, ignoring as he shot a drunken glare backwards.   
In typical Roger style he was grumpy and in the mood to smash something, and maybe something else on the way there. Luckily the other two sensed the danger in time.

The agitated drummer huffed, pushing a coat into Brian's chest and grabbing John's arm a little too heavily, "We're leaving." 

"Roger stop being an idiot!"

"So" Roger shouted back at him with a laugh dripping with sarcasm, "I'm an idiot now?"

The group bundled their way outside, Roger loosening his hold on John and dragging him out, shortly followed by Freddie and lastly Brian, who seemed to be on the verge of tears if there was any more shouting from either of them.

Cold air gripped them but Roger hot headedness kept him warm.

John and Brian knew the real reasons behind Rogers anger, they all knew his tension from exams but Freddie had missed the lonely nights Roger had spent alone in their room. Freddie had missed the times Roger had been sure that he would choose going out over spending any more time with them and sniffled into Brian's shoulder. They too had worried to the point of sickness when no one, not even Mary, had heard from him in 12 hours.   
They all felt the worry that the drink and the drugs they did weren't enough for Freddie.

Freddie had missed the nights they all spent waiting by the door for him to come back and hoping that he would always come home and need them to clean him up.

Roger tried to keep on walking away but Freddie caught up to him and with a clatter of heels they slowed. Arms folded, Roger stared him down, daring him to make a scene;

"Roger, you're being so fucking ridiculous, let's go back inside! I'm freezing."

There was a pause of uncertainty, not being sure if they would sigh and go to talk it over or explode and end up as another TV thrown out of a window.

“Yeah... and how about you piss off? You seem good at doing that recently.”  
He spat, turning away with a dramatic flick off his hair which just grazed Freddie's face. Brian's eyes traces Freddie's face with a look that could be sadness and understanding or something far less comforting, either way he had a desperation to him that hinted he knew the damage and pain that could be to come.

Or maybe it was happening now.

As he knew he couldn't back down now, he couldn't get his mind in the right place to do anything other than stare.

He stared at John who promptly looked to the floor, avoiding letting anything out.

He stared at Roger who stared straight back with the usual soul warming fire he held inside him.

And he stared at Brian who pleaded with him so desperately to do the right thing.

“Fine! If you're going to be a drama queen then I don't want to hear it!” He shouted back, with a gentle slur and ignoring the flinches that came with the sudden outburst of energy.   
And then from up in such an adrenaline filled high, he thrust himself out into the brisk bite of the night air.

The chatter of the city poured out of streets and alleys as he walked with no particular purpose; the anger slowly bubbled away from inside him and all that was left by the time he was too far away to turn back was the surface crust. The thoughts he knew he should be thinking couldn't manage to bubble to the surface.  
Ashamedly, he knew-   
He knew the fight inside him that had caused the negligence that Roger spited him for.

Yet even given that, there was only one place he dared go.   
Mary would make him face his fears too directly.  
The others wanted nothing from him tonight.  
Any other friends he had were not the kind that you could talk to.

In fact, as sad as it seemed, he had only one person in this whole world at this moment who he felt would listen.   
And that person barely remembered his face.

He threw his drink down a completely open throat, closing his eyes and letting the sting pass and the dullness envelope him. Lights from the bar illuminated him harshly like the set of a sci-fi film and beat his eyes to the bottom of the glass.

There was no guarantee he'd be here, Freddie hadn't sent out any signs, made any calls, he was sure he wasn't telepathic but he had tried just in case. It was a foolish hope that he would even come here again but forsaking all else it was the only hope he had.

The minutes ticked by, everyone left him alone as they sensed they should unless they wanted to be on the receiving end of his silver tongue. But those minutes didn't get the chance to turn to hours before the miraculous occured. 

"Back here again are we?" Jim asked taking a seat next to Freddie without looking in his direction.   
The spark went off in his heart again but remained dulled by the fire blanket that was a painful argument.

"I don't know." He downed the last drops of his drink.  
"What's that supposed to mean?"

Good question, thought Freddie.  
"I think I've been a complete arsehole actually, I don't know anything about… anything-" he gestured to the air as if trying to show words or meaning he didn't have in his grasp. 

"And I wanted to see you Jim," the unexpected giggle that left his mouth was sweet but sickly so, "I thought I was happy with the excitement of it all but I wanted to see you, isn't that silly."

"Freddie," he sighed, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

Now that was a good question, what the fuck was he talking about, and why was he saying all of this to a man who should foremost be a stranger. Who shouldn't even be here.

But nevertheless he shrugged of this feeling and dove headfirst as he was so used to doing, "all of this!" He gestured around to the lights, the music and the beautiful beautiful boys around them. "I'm missing something in my life Jim and I've fucked up what I do have already."

Jim looked softly at him as Freddie began to recount the most of his argument, losing confidence in how strongly it was Rogers fault the more he talked. He was sure Roger had overreacted, he had been a bitchy little drama queen like he always was… but that didn't mean that he wasn't too.

Then he snapped, wallowing and pouring his heart out to Jim who just sat and listened attentively with a hand on Freddie's back.

"Why do I have to be so bloody stubborn," he moped, staring for an answer in Jim's face. As he looked back Jim's felt an overwhelming desire to hold him, something about the honesty and longing in his face made him seem so utterly… normal. 

Up until now Jim had kept his distance, always wary of a man who knew how to use words to get what he wanted. He had never been able to see Freddie as wanting anything more than a shag (maybe two and a blowie if he was lucky), but this man in front of him would be more at home curled in a woven jumper with a husband and a box of tissues. It was dangerous to think like that, he was nearly breaking to a man he knew nothing about. He was nearly letting thoughts he had boxed up his whole life come out and roam free all over an otter in tight fitting trousers.

"Freddie," he bit his lip, "come stay on my sofa, you can apologize tomorrow, we can work it out together."  
Freddie looked up at him and saw it all in his eyes, he saw every love he had ever wanted and more reflected clearly back at him. If it had been another time, any other time, he would have jumped in head first, secured the man and finally been able to feel what it was like to be truly and absolutely loved. However this was rational Freddie making his rarest of appearances; he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to, put himself in this horrible hunting position again. 

The hair on Jim's arm stood as his hand rested tenderly, with a soft smile he answered,  
"I shouldn't, I can't keep on chasing you forever."  
Trying to ignore images of what Jim's room looked like, how his pillows felt, what it would be like to curl up in his lap as he told you everything was okay- no. It was this kind of desperation that was leading him further and further away from the people he already had.

Half hopeful, half assertive, he sighed:  
"but you will, won't you?"

"I think so"

Nodding, he let his hand slide off the others arm, losing that last moment of contact he had to link them together.  
"Goodbye, Jim"

Jim was the one to stare after freddie this time, noticing how the lights blinked and flashed until he was completely hidden from all view, swallowed by the sea of people who would carry him home. The meeting felt unreal, too short and close and coincidental to have happened at all.

He worried as he stood there looking that he would wake and it had all been a dream.  
Or that he had conjured that freddie from his subconscious and that he had disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

He didn't return, and Jim didn't wake up. All that freddie found after their odd and unlikely meeting was a number slipped in the back of his pocket. Hopefully it was from Jim, if not he knew he could trust the universe to get him there somehow.

 

Brian's foot tapped on the floor incessantly.   
John had long since gone to bed, wracked with nerves and Roger was sat in the shared room, brooding over a cup of tea and a partially trashed wardrobe (not that it had made the room much less ordered than it had been before).

After they had returned there had been nothing but frost in the air between them, instantly slamming doors and loudly complaining in order to make it anyone else's fault.   
Brian was the only one waiting for Freddie.  
The others had doubted he'd even come back tonight, he had called Mary, Veronica and even some random numbers in Freddie's address book of men who seemed displeased to be woken again with news of Freddie Mercury. 

It was now past the hour, the clock still ticking and nothing having changed. Brian had moved to order the sofa cushions before returning to mess them up again five minutes later. He had carefully avoided the alcohol on the cabinet and not so much as looked at the draw in Freddie and Rogers room which they all knew contained substances less than legal.   
His foot still tapping.

Waiting like a mother for her Bastard son, late for curfew.

Then the door clicked; he mightn't have believed it could be his friend with the subtlety and shame that it was prised open with. But there he stood, bedraggled, clearly more drunk than before but thankfully fully clothed and unyielding.

Brian began, "Freddie thank God, you just disappeared-" but he was cut off instantly by the lack of enthusiasm in the others voice,  
"I'm fine, don't worry about me. Where's blondie?"

"In your room"

He paused, glancing to the door where only a few minutes before he had heard Roger complaining loudly to himself. It had pained Brian to hear all of these.things going on from his oldest friend without knowing how to offer a hand.  
"I'm not sure he's calmed down yet," Freddie smiled, of course he hadn't, who would Roger be if he calmed down instantly after a fight. 

He moved towards the doors far from being one to step away from confrontation he was completely ready to walk back in and maybe, on this rarest occasions, admit that he may have been ever so slightly at fault. Brian winced, watching his child walk back into a battle he may well come out of fairly bruised if he wasn't careful. Or even more worrying was that his abrasiveness wouldn't be disguised and in the end he might be the one doing more bruising.  
"Don't be a dick, Fred."

Whilst Freddie was perfectly sure that he would be nothing but delightful, the thought did cross his mind that maybe cocky charm was not his way out of injuries by deeper wounds.

"Roger?" He curved his head around the door, speaking far more softly than usual upon seeing the mess around him.   
The head of shaggy hair stayed down, barely moving at his arrival and keeping to his sulky disposition.  
Wondering out loud he scuffed his feet gently on the floor, "So you're back then?"   
His dampened inquisitive tone giving a welcomed look into his state.

"In the flesh dear!"

"You're lucky, I think I might just be on my way to forgiving you."  
Although he couldn't really think why.

Freddie placed himself on the edge of Roger's bed ever so gently, putting a hand on his arm. He wasn't sure what he was going to say but he knew it had to be something good, in fact it probably had to be the one thing he often refused to do. But it was worth it, any of these men would do just about anything for him and he could not live with himself if he didn't return the favour.  
"I don't say this often Roger… but I'm sorry," he was, he was sorry for just about everything yet somehow he felt like he was putting on an act, like somehow his pride was still too much for him. so he swallowed, and carried on telling the truth, "you're amazingly intelligent and it's a pleasure to work with you every day, I wouldn't have it any other way."

There was a stunned silence that could almost be mistaken for a moment, if that moment hadn't been broken by Roger letting out a short and sharp snort of laughter.  
"Sorry, I'm shocked!"   
Followed by just a little bit more if a giggle looking at Freddie's face painted with just a touch of outrage.  
"Oh don't be such a dick about it." Of course Roger was being a nob. Although saying that, he wouldn't have it any other way.   
Roger laughed back at the disbelief and short smirk, elbowing him in the ribs and dissipating the tension of the room.  
"Wanker." He muttered.

But then he paused, and he realised something vital; Freddie was his friend, he was so important to him and in whatever way he must be hurting, something must be happening and as a whole they let themselves grow more and more angry.  
"You know, you can talk to us? If there's something going on?" He offered, turning down the atmosphere in the room. It was clear that he meant it, that he at least meant something by it. 

However, Freddie ignored the serious note and shook his head, his hair falling around him in locks and contrasting against the flashes of red from his overly large collection of pillows behind them.  
"My life is my life, I don't need anyone's help with that. I mean when I've got me I don't need anyone else,"  
Liar.

"You can still talk about things Freddie, we are your friends…And I've been lead to believe I'm very intelligent as well." It was a half plead on Rogers part, but much like Freddie he had succumbed to the ease of letting it lie.  
Letting the lies lie.  
"Roger, I know what I'm doing, trust me."

"I hope that's true" he muttered, catching Freddie's eyes properly for the first time since he had walked in the door.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comment and share if you enjoyed, thankyou so much for the support and sorry for my dodgy schedule xx


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